


Guardians of Middle-Earth

by padfootagain



Series: Guardians Of Middle-Earth [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adventure, F/M, I mean they fight, OC, Romance, War, some violence so be careful with that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 04:57:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 41,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20595074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padfootagain/pseuds/padfootagain
Summary: After 5 years spent away from Gondor, Eldarion, Son of Aragorn, finally comes home. But shadows are following him, and a terrible accusation is set upon him. He has then to face a trial for murder. And this trial will force him to reveal what happened while he was away…





	1. The Council

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all like it. This fic makes me nervous, so please, tell me what you think about it. I’m open to suggestions and remarks and everything you might think of this will be useful, so let me know.  
Also, as two different timelines are followed here, I’ve used these —- to separate paragraphs for two different timelines, and these **** to separate two paragraphs of the same timeline, so it would be clearer and easier for you all to read.

“Eldarion, Son of Aragorn…”  
The young man looked up at the Kings before him, remaining perfectly still, a calm expression on his face.  
“…The charges that are held against you are critical. Aldir, Son of Golmas, Prince of the Easterlings, is accusing you of the murder of his uncle, Gryas the Golden.”  
Eldarion didn’t flinch, and merely kept staring at Faramir.  
“Prince Aldir has assured us that he could bring forth several witnesses to testify of your crime,” Faramir went on. “In the name of Gondor, I would like to reassure all people gathered here today that this trial shall be led fairly, but with extreme severity. There is no man here who desires to threaten the newly found peace between Free Folks and Easterlings. But before hearing any witness, or study any proof Prince Aldir could present before the judges, we wish to hear the accused, who shall speak his own version of the events first.”  
There was a short silence, and all in the Great Hall of Minas Tirith stared at Eldarion, standing motionless before the Kings and Princes around him. Since he had been brought there, he had not moved a muscle. Around his wrists, the chains were becoming painful, and he was sure they would leave marks on his skin. But he didn’t really care.  
Eldarion had longed for years to see again the tall columns that surrounded him now, to lay his eyes on the old stones his feet were resting upon once more. He had never imagined he would stand in the large hall with chains around his wrists though.  
“As you are the son of our King, he will not sit in the great throne for your trial,” Faramir told the young man standing still before him. “King Elessar shall remain only a member of the jury, made of the Kings, Princes and Lords gathered here. The King has appointed me to conduct this trial in his stead.”  
Eldarion could feel his father’s intense stare fixed upon him, but the young man didn’t look at the King, and merely kept staring at Faramir.  
“The circumstances being extraordinary,” the Prince of Ithilien went on again, “we will not lead this trial as it is usually organized. Many things must be learned before we can judge if you are guilty or not. Since you were back here in the White City, you have always fled all the questions that were asked concerning your long travel through Middle-Earth. These facts cannot remain wrapped in mist any longer, and must be brought to light now.”  
Eldarion clenched his jaw, but didn’t interrupt Faramir. He didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t flee before questions anymore, and though he would have gladly been buried with the secret of his journey, he knew he would have to confess everything that had happened these past five years before this trial was over. He listened again to Faramir as the man was resuming his speech.  
“You shall answer our questions, and tell us everything that has happened whilst you were gone. Only when your story is fully told shall your trial begin. You will not be allowed to present any proof for your defence, nor any witness, before you have answered all our questions concerning your past.”  
Faramir paused for a brief moment, letting his words sink in.  
“Even if you are accused of murder, you are still the son of our King. If you give us your word that you will not try to flee, nor leave the City for any reason that may be, you shall be allowed to go back to your personal chambers instead of the dungeons, and your trial from now on shall happen without chains. Do you swear that you will remain in the White City until your trial is ended, and the sentence, whatever it may be, has been imposed?”  
Eldarion nodded slowly.  
“I swear,” he answered. “I shall remain in the White City as long as the members of this trial shall see fit.”  
Faramir nodded towards the two guards of the Citadel that were standing next to Eldarion, and they released him from his heavy chains. The young prince massaged his painful wrists, still staring at Faramir.  
“Unless anyone has one last word to speak, the trial will begin now,” Faramir told the crowd gathered in the Hall of stone.  
There was a heavy silence, as no one had anything to add. Faramir turned towards Eldarion again.  
“Eldarion, Son of Aragorn,” Faramir spoke loudly, his stern voice echoing between the tall pillars of stone, “do you swear on your sacred honour, that you shall speak no lies in those halls, and that all that you may say before these judges is only the truth, and nothing but the truth?”  
“I swear, on my sacred honour,” the young man answered in a clear and calm voice.  
“The trial has thus begun.”  
All in the Hall sat down, and a wooden stool was brought to Eldarion so that he could sit as well.  
“Let’s start with the beginning,” Faramir proposed, and all the judges around him nodded in approbation. “Tell us how your journey began.”  
Eldarion cleared his throat, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden. There were so many things he wanted to keep for himself… But he didn’t have a choice. He had to tell his story, or he would be found guilty before his trial had even begun. And death was the sentence required for murder in his Kingdom.  
“It was five years ago,” Eldarion began, his voice slow and steady, clear and loud so that everyone in the Hall could hear his words. “There had been unrest in the East, Orcs had been seen near our lands, and in the lands of many other Kings and Lords. And so the Council began…”  
—————————————————————————————————-  
Five years earlier  
Minas Tirith

Darkness was creeping back into the world again. The Dark Lord Sauron had been defeated 35 years before, and yet evil was still looming in the shadows, invisible threat over a reborn land. Peace had spread through every corner of Middle-earth under the reign of King Elessar and, leaderless, the Orcs and Goblins and other dark creatures had fled, hiding in the deepest holes and the most secret tunnels. But a whisper had been heard in Middle-earth, coming from the East, ghost of a new war. Villages burnt, crops destroyed, roads suffering of raids, pillages, thefts… the list was long and the Kings and Lords of the Free Folks of Middle-earth grew worried again, for many of them had fought against the Enemy, and none could forget the desolation of war. But in front of this new threat, nothing could be done without the agreement of all, and so the Council began. To this great gathering came all the Lords of the free lands from the Dwarf Lords of the Iron Hills to the Wooden Elves of Mirkwood, and the King Elessar of Gondor. They all met in the Great Halls of Minas Tirith, where they spoke for a long time of what they had heard in their homelands.  
“Orcs have been seen at night at the borders of the Brown Lands, near South Undeep,” said King Eomer of Rohan, “the Rohirrims have destroyed them before they could flee eastward. But I doubt it is the only pack of Orcs we will see near our lands in those darkening days…”  
“And yet, with only a few Goblins or Orcs, we can hardly speak of an invasion,” said Thorin III Stonehelm, “especially when they are seen unorganized and wandering.”  
“We are not talking about an invasion yet,” answered calmly the King of Gondor, “but we must not act as if nothing had happened either. Something is stirring in the distance, and we must be ready for it when it comes and shows itself in its true form. For now, only glimpses can be distinguished from afar, it is true. And yet, in my heart, I feel a great fear of what could come to us if our enemies were more than 'unorganized and wandering’ Orcs and Goblins.”  
“I am not advising that we should remain idle. I am only saying that we must not overreact.”  
“Clearly it is not your farms that have been burnt, King Dwarf,” replied bitterly Eomer.  
“We have met Goblins too, Horse Master. Do not think we are not concerned,” snapped the King Under the Mountain, suddenly straightening in his chair.  
“Then you may stop acting as if this council was only an 'overreaction’,” warned Eomer.  
“My Lords, please,” Elessar calmed the two Kings.  
They glowered at each other, but spoke no more of it. Peregrin Took cleared his voice.  
“I may not be aware of all the details,” said the Hobbit, “but it seems to me that our biggest problem is that we do not know what we are up against.”  
“Pippin’s right,” added Master Samwise Gamgee, “we should take first measures to discover what exactly is going on in the East, that ought to be a good start. Like my old Gaffer used to say 'you can’t step in water before you know the depth of it, or you might drown in a swamp’.”  
The Lords couldn’t help but laugh.  
“Hobbits always have funny words and images for everything,” joked Faramir, Prince of Ithilien. “But none can ever deny their wisdom.”  
“The Hobbits are right,” said the Master of Lake-Town. “We cannot fight an enemy we do not know.”  
“Perhaps we could organize expeditions in the East,” proposed the Lord Gilrael, his elven voice melodious and warm.  
“With whose troops? And who would lead them?” asked Thorin III.  
“We cannot send heavy troops far in the East anyway,” said Eomer. “The Men of RhÃ»n live there, and I doubt they will grant us safe passage through their lands.”  
“They could take it as a gesture of war,” added Faramir, nodding slowly as he was lost in thought.  
“It can only be something we do in secret,” said Elessar. “If it is indeed more than just a few Orcs, if they are gathering in a clear purpose, they must not learn that we are getting organized as well. The less our enemies will know of our plan, the better.”  
“We should send some kind of Fellowship,” proposed Meriadoc Brandybuck. “Like we did to destroy the One Ring.”  
“Unless this time I don’t volunteer, that’s for sure,” said Pippin. “I’m way too old for this kind of thing!”  
Laughs echoed in the great Hall of stone.  
“Again the Hobbits show more wisdom than many chiefs of Men,” laughed Legolas Greenleaf. “A Fellowship seems to be the best option to me.”  
All nodded, and Gimli the Dwarf patted affectionately Merry’s shoulder, blowing out a cloud of blue smoke.  
“All should be represented,” said the Dwarf, still releasing fumes from his lungs, “Men, Dwarves and Elves alike.”  
“A Wizard would be of great help too,” said Samwise. “Gandalf saved us all many times!”  
“But the White Wizard has left these shores,” replied sadly Legolas.  
“Many Wizards and Witches have remained though,” said Gilrael.  
“But most are now idle, living like hermits,” protested Bard II.  
“There are some who are still fighting for Middle-earth.”  
“I have called to this meeting Ana the Green,” said the King of Gondor. “She is very important in the circle of Wizards, and is very wise and powerful despite her relatively young age. She had accepted the invitation, but could not arrive today, for she was deep in the Misty Mountains and could not delay her dealings there. She should arrive here in the White City in two days. I shall speak of this matter with her then.”  
Silence filled up the room. Outside the night had already fallen, covering the sky with strong lights shining like memories of a long forgotten past, whilst the streets were now alit with many fires, and the whisper of life flowing through the stone walls of Minas Tirith could be heard from afar. In the hearth, the fire was dying.  
“It is quite late my friends,” said Aragorn. “I am sure you will all agree that we need rest more than words now. Let’s eat first, and then spend a good night of sleep. Tomorrow, we shall decide what we ought to do.”  
************************  
He swung again his sword through the air. For hours he had been training, repeating again and again the same movements until it would come to him naturally. His father always said that a good warrior could fight without thinking about the movements of his weapon, it was the only way of being fast enough to survive. Out of breath, his arm aching, the young man put down his sword and chased away his dark hair from his eyes. He drank up some water, and swept the sweat away from his forehead. He turned around as the door was being opened behind him.  
“You are training again, my son? Is it not a bit late for sword-fighting?”  
Eldarion smiled at the sight of his father’s lips curving up mischievously.  
“I could not sleep,” he answered.  
The King sat down in an old chair near the fire, extending his long legs before the warm hearth.  
“It is a good way of getting tired, of course,” he said, smiling frankly now.  
“That is precisely what I thought,” his son answered.  
“I am sure you are not training to try to beat your old father again…”  
Eldarion let out a laugh, taking a seat by the fire too.  
“First of all, you are not old yet, for proof your way of fighting…”  
“I have already strode upon this earth longer than a man should.”  
“But you are from NÃºmenor, blessed with long life. And for our people, you are not old.”  
Aragorn let out a small laugh. Silence filled up the space between them, only broken by the shy whisper of the cracking wood burning into red blazes.  
“Why could you not sleep, my son?” Elessar asked bluntly.  
“I don’t know. I was simply not tired.”  
The King smiled tenderly at his son.  
“You are an awful liar Eldarion, just like your mother.”  
The young prince looked into his father’s grey eyes.  
“I was worried about the Council,” he answered, earnestly this time. “I was worried about what you could decide, and what news the other Kings and Lords could bring from their own lands. I was afraid it might be a greater threat for our people than we had expected.”  
“We already knew what has been brought to us from afar,” Aragorn reassured his son. “And we have not decided anything yet. We have simply talked, but nothing is settled for now.”  
“I would like to come with you…”  
But his father interrupted him with a gesture of his strong hand.  
“It is not your place yet. You are still young, and unwise. Besides,” he added, rising from his chair, “you know I always tell you everything, or almost everything.”  
He put a hand on his son’s shoulder, who had stood up as well. They were so much alike, and one could think they were only images of the same man in a mirror, only coming from two different periods of time. Eldarion had inherited his father’s tall and strong stature, his face both proud and gentle, his gaze burning with a hidden fire, keen and wild, and yet full of mercy and kindness. Although Eldarion’s eyes did not have the shade of dark clouds like his father’s, they wore a dark brown shade, that turned almost black with the fading lights. He had the noble posture of the people of the North, from long defeated and forgotten, and yet from whose knowledge had passed from a generation to another, and was used in those days to heal the wounds of the world. But some traces of his Elfish mother could also be seen in his graceful silhouette, his smooth form of face, his dark hair… If he had like his father the stern power of the elder people in his charisma, he also had the grace of the Elves in his movements. The balance between his heritage from both his parents made the most wonderful melting possible. He smiled at his father, their eyes meeting in laughter.  
“It is late, and I am tired,” Aragorn said. “Let’s go to sleep.”  
Eldarion nodded, and closed the door behind them, leaving his sword upon the floor as the fire was dying, letting darkness spread through the room.  
*******************************  
The rain was biting into her face like cold arrows flung through the wind. She hurried through the Courtyard, and followed the soldier who was leading her inside the Halls of the White City. In the distance, down the Hall, was sitting the King in his high throne of stone. He was talking with several of his Captains, who were nodding and listening closely to their King’s commands. She advanced quickly, shaking away the raindrops on her robes and sweeping the cold water away from her eyes. When he saw her approaching, the King dismissed kindly his Captains, and welcomed the witch warmly.  
“Ana the Green, it is a pleasure to see you. Thank you for coming,” Aragorn smiled.  
“Thank you for inviting me, your Highness.”  
“We have known each other for too long for you to call me that way.”  
He stood up, and guided her in an adjacent room. They sat near the fire, so that the witch could get warmer.  
“How was your journey?” Elessar asked her.  
“Wet at the end!”  
They both laughed. She pushed her long brown hair away from her face.  
“How did the Council go?” she asked, diving into the subject.  
“Not bad,” Aragorn answered. “We have all agreed about the threat we are facing, and we all think measures must be taken. Now, an idea has arisen, that we should send people investigate in the East.”  
“I could not agree more,” nodded the witch. “And who would you like to send?”  
“That still remains in question. But we were thinking of a fellowship more than an army…”  
Ana looked at him, narrowing her eyes.  
“A fellowship?”  
“It worked quite well the last time we did.”  
“It was in a different times though. But I must agree with the fact that you cannot send an army in the East, it would be considered as an act of war.”  
“And we do not need a war with the Easterlings nor any peoples living in deserted lands.”  
“I do not think our enemies are hiding very far into their territories though. They must be very near the Edge of Rhovanion.”  
“Still, we must send some of our best people, and figure out what is happening there. We must know what the Orcs and Goblins are up to, we must know their plans.”  
“I agree.”  
“Will you help us then?”  
The witch turned her gaze to the fire, and remained deep in thought for a few minutes. When she spoke again, her voice was calm and distant, as if she was talking to herself.  
“Only a few people would dare to go so far from their homes.”  
“And you are one of them,” Aragorn told her, leaning closer to her. “We must act now, while there is still time.”  
She looked at him again, frowning with worry.  
“The situation is worse than we thought,” she said, her voice quite hoarse. “Goblins and Trolls are back in the Misty Mountains, they have tried to steal Eagles’ eggs. That’s why I was delayed in the North, and could not come earlier. They are getting further than we thought into our lands.”  
“What do the Wooden Elves say about it?”  
She shook her head.  
“All wooden elves are not as clear-minded and trustworthy as the Lord Legolas. His father is a stubborn King, and he cares more about his own boundaries than any of his neighbours’. I have friends there, but many of the Elves have departed long ago. I only know that they have fought some groups of Orcs coming from the East, nothing more.”  
“We must act Ana.”  
“I know, and I will help you if I can. But it will not be easy.”  
“I know, and I thank you for your help. Would you agree to be a part of the Fellowship then?”  
She smiled, her eyes shining.  
“As long as we do not have to be called 'the fellowship’.”  
They laughed.  
“And how would you have yourself called then?” the King asked her merrily.  
She thought for a moment, before smiling at Aragorn.  
“We are sent away to keep the boundaries of our Kingdoms safe. What about 'The Guard’?”  
Elessar smiled at her.  
“It would be perfect.”  
***************************************  
In the afternoon, when the Council resumed, Ana the Green sat near the King of Gondor, and the news of her help in the creation of a group sent away in the East was welcomed enthusiastically.  
“Our best soldiers should join you in your journey,” said Legolas. “One of each Kingdom shall go with you, and with them the blessing of all the Free Folks.”  
“There is no need to send a very large group though,” the witch replied. “All should be represented, you are right, but I think one of each race is enough to be brought along.”  
“Shall we send a Hobbit too?” asked Samwise.  
“No Sam, there is no need,” Elessar answered. “Your people is peaceful, and it is good for us all that they remain that way. I do not wish to send any of your kind away from your homes and peaceful fields again. You have already proved yourselves the last time war was upon us.”  
“Thank you, it would have been a weight for us all to see any of us go away again,” said Merry.  
“Now, how will we choose who we are going to send?” asked Thorin III Stonehelm.  
“I wish to choose with you,” said the witch. “We will have to go through many perils together, and we need to get along.”  
“Have you already some names in mind?” asked Faramir.  
Ana turned towards the King Eomer.  
“I thought of Eoden in Rohan. He is a very good man, and a great fighter. He knows perfectly the Lands near the borders of your kingdom, for he has been defending them for a long time now. Both his knowledge and his strength shall prove themselves a great advantage to us.”  
Eomer thought for a while.  
“He is my best Captain, and a man I value very highly.”  
“We must send our best men Eomer, if it comes that far, they will have to defend themselves against many enemies,” said Aragorn to his old friend. “We must send the best we have.”  
The King of Rohan nodded reluctantly.  
“So be it then.”  
An elf cleared her voice. She was sitting next to Legolas, and had not spoken yet that day.  
“I volunteer to represent the Elves in this mission.”  
Legolas Greenleaf frowned at her.  
“Are you certain?”  
She nodded, her blond curls brushing her shoulders.  
“I am. My knowledge in medicine should be very useful. And more importantly, Ana and I have been friends for many years now,” she added, smiling at the witch. “I shall fight by your side my friend.”  
“Thank you Adhalan,” Ana answered, smiling.  
“What about the Dwarves?” asked Gimli.  
“Urin is a good friend of mine, and a very good smith. I thought he might agree to join us, if I ask him to.”  
“Goin will never agree to let his brother go without him,” Gimli replied, shaking his head.  
“Then, I guess he shall come with us too,” answered Ana.  
“So two Dwarves will go, but only one man?” protested Bard II.  
“And only one Elf, and yet we do not ask for more,” replied Legolas.  
“We can accept another man if it eases your mind,” answered Ana.  
“It would indeed, thank you.”  
“Gondor should be represented too,” said Pippin. “Someone from the Citadel should go.”  
The Hobbit turned towards Elessar.  
“I know you will choose the right person Strider, and everyone in the Shire will feel better if someone you trust is sent too.”  
Aragorn nodded.  
“I shall choose someone myself to represent my Kingdom then.”  
“And how are we going to call you? You need a name!” said Master Gamgee.  
“Ana thought about 'The Guard’.”  
Gilrael laughed.  
“I recognise you here Ana. It would suit this fellowship quite well I reckon.”  
All agreed, smiling. The King Elessar stood up, calling the meeting to an end.  
“I will choose someone from Gondor. You should send words to the ones we have appointed to this task. They must come here as fast as they can. The sooner the Guard will depart, the better. I only hope it will not be too late.”  
***********************************************  
Aragorn closed his eyes. Against his eyelids, the dying sun was shedding a warmth that was shaking his whole body. He breathed deeply the smell of wet leaves. Without opening his eyes, he recognised the steps of his son approaching behind him.  
“Mother told me what happened at the Council. I am glad you have taken a decision.”  
The King looked at his son, diving into his brown eyes.  
“We have indeed.”.  
Eldarion leaned against the banister, next to his father. In the distance, the Mountains of Mordor were like a dark wall enclosing the horizon. The sky above the black peaks was on fire, as if the flames were coming from the desolated land itself, igniting the cloudless skies with fierce sparks. For a while, nor father nor son spoke a word.  
“Have you already chosen someone to represent Gondor?” Eldarion finally asked.  
“I have not set my choice upon anyone yet, no. It is a difficult decision to take, and the lives of many will depend on it. Perhaps I should send one of our Captains… Though in my soul I wish I could go myself.”  
“Have you ever been in Rhun?”  
“I have. But it was a long time ago, when the Dark Lord was still a whisper from afar. It was before the War, before I became who I was meant to be, when I was still a Ranger.”  
“How was it?”  
Elessar lost his gaze in the golden shades of the snowy Mountains on his right.  
“Desolated, lonely, dry. These are no lands you want to go unless you have to. I wonder if it has changed, now that Sauron is defeated, and that no man in these lands can swear him allegiance anymore. The wars against the Easterlings have been long, I’m afraid our peace with them could be endangered.”  
Eldarion took a deep breath before speaking again.  
“Father, an idea has been in my mind since I learnt about the choice you have to make.”  
“What is it, my son?”  
He looked at his father, whose gaze was still fixed upon the horizon.  
“I want to go.”  
Aragorn turned his attention towards him, frowning.  
“I want to go with the Guard,” the young man repeated. “I want to be a part of it.”  
The King shook his head.  
“It is too dangerous.”  
“You always say a good King is a King who has seen enough of the world to know about the perils he must protect his people from. You always say I am not wise enough. I know you are right, I have not enough experience in life yet to take decisions as a King. So let me go in Rhun, let me have a chance to learn.”  
“You are my heir, the heir to the throne of Gondor and Arnor. We cannot take this risk,” the King replied.  
“How am I supposed to learn about the world if you shield me from it?”  
“There is a difference between showing you the world, and sending you to Rhun.”  
“Sooner or later, you will have to let me face the world beyond the boundaries of Gondor and Arnor. I must see war too, you said it yourself.”  
“You are not ready.”  
“I am never ready with you!”  
Eldarion breathed deeply, calming down, trying to control the shakiness in his voice.  
“I want to do something, something important for once.”  
“I will not take the risk to leave our people without an heir,” Aragorn coldly answered.  
He put a hand on his son’s shoulder, looking at him in the eyes.  
“I will not take the risk to lose my only son.”  
“If war comes upon us, will I be more ready to fight? Will I be ready because war is upon my home?”  
Aragorn didn’t answer, and so Eldarion went on.  
“I can fight. You have taught me all there is to know about ancient medicine, Mother has taught me elfish medicine as well. I know how to find the safest path with the sun and the stars. I am as ready as I will ever be. You simply refuse to see it.”  
But Aragorn shook his head again.  
“You are too young…”  
“I am a grown man, I am no child anymore!” replied Eldarion, his voice shaking with anger.  
Despite his best efforts to remain calm, he had raised his voice.  
“A man would accept the commands of his King!” said Aragorn, raising his voice as well. “And you, Child, should learn your place!”  
Eldarion clenched his jaw.  
“I do accept the commands of my King. But I am not forced to agree with my father. For we both know the one who is refusing me this mission now, is not my King.”  
It was Aragorn’s turn to clench his jaw.  
“You are not refusing to send me because I am not ready, or because I am not a good fighter. You know I am the best warrior in this Kingdom. You know I have the skills and knowledge for this mission. You are simply afraid to let me be a man too.”  
Eldarion turned on his heels and strode out of the balcony and into his father’s private office, before walking into the corridor. Aragorn remained standing there for a while, lost in thought. When he moved away from the banister, it was night already, and the dark Mountains of Mordor had disappeared in the shadows.  
***************************************  
Arwen looked at her husband for a while. He was leaning against the wall near their bed, by the window, staring at the flickering lights that the fireflies were igniting in the shadows. She stood up, and walked by his side and he started when she touched his arm.  
“Why are you so worried, Estel?”  
He took her in his arms, and held her tightly against him.  
“I was merely thinking,” he answered, his voice sounding like it came from far away.  
“About the soldier you will send with the witch?”  
Aragorn sighed.  
“Eldarion came to see me this evening. He wants to go.”  
Arwen looked at him, horrified.  
“You cannot send him! You cannot send our son!”  
“He is not a child anymore, my love.”  
“He is still our son! He is my baby, our baby!”  
“He is a man, and one day he will be King. He must know about what the world has in store against us.”  
“There are other ways.”  
“He is ready.”  
She narrowed her eyes.  
“What words did he speak to convince you?”  
“Words of my own.”  
“He is so young still!”  
“He is twenty-six, many who have died in battle were much younger.”  
“He does not realize what it means, what he will have to face.”  
“Maybe it is precisely the reason why he must depart for the East.”  
He took her hands in his. Her long, graceful fingers had turned cold with fear.  
“We cannot protect him forever,” Aragorn said in a whisper. “He is my son too, and I love him with all my heart. But keeping him here, unspoiled, is not doing him a favour. He must grow, and learn, if we want him to be a good and wise guide for our people.”  
“Your words sound like wisdom, and yet my heart is breaking in my chest already.”  
He caressed her soft cheek.  
“Mine is breaking as well, but it also tells me to let him live the life he wants for himself. The decision is also his to take.”  
Arwen nodded slowly, defeated.  
“If you think it is what is meant to be done.”  
He took her in his arms again.  
“I am afraid… I do not know what is meant to be done anymore.”  
************************************************  
Eldarion entered his father’s office, a lump in his throat. The previous night, he had spoken his heart, but he knew it was not what his father wanted to hear. He found the King standing by the window, looking outside, though Eldarion knew he was seeing nothing of the cloudless morning, he was staring at the world while lost in thought.  
“You asked to see me,” the young man said softly.  
Aragorn turned around slowly.  
“I did.”  
He remained there, standing still, and didn’t propose his son to take a seat. Eldarion knew for experience that is was not a good sign. Suddenly, he felt like a young boy who had been caught exploring the castle in the middle of the night again. He forced himself to stand straighter.  
“I have thought about who should represent Gondor in the Guard,” Elessar spoke slowly.  
Eldarion’s heart skipped a beat.  
“Have you come to a decision then?”  
“I have indeed.”  
Aragorn took several steps towards his son, and looked straight into his eyes.  
“You shall depart as soon as the other members have arrived. It should not take very long. Two, maybe three weeks at the most.”  
Eldarion raised an eyebrow.  
“Me?”  
“You were right last night,” Aragorn answered. “You are ready, and you are probably the best warrior I could send.”  
He paused briefly, before speaking again, even more slowly.  
“You must understand that I did not refuse at first because I doubt you, but because you are my son.”  
“I understand, I have responsibilities towards our people.”  
Aragorn smiled sadly.  
“I never think about our people when it comes to you, or any of your sisters.”  
He took his son’s face in both his hands.  
“You are my son. I would never forgive myself if any harm was coming to you. One day, you will have children of your own, and you will understand how it feels to be ready to do anything to keep them safe. You will understand then, how it feels to value the life of someone above all things, above your own life, even above your kingdom.”  
He let go of his son, who remained speechless.  
“But you are a man now, and it is time for you to choose your own path. And it is time for me to let go. Though, it does not mean I will let you go away from home like this.”  
Eldarion narrowed his eyes, smiling by now. Elessar reached for something behind his desk. When he faced his son again, he was holding an old, but royal sheath in his hands.  
“I want you to have it. It protected me during the War, and allowed me to vanquish many perils. The power within this blade has kept darkness away from our lands for many generations. And since the days of Elendil, it has been the guardian of peace, in our lands and afar. May it protect you from all evil and harm that may come across your path.”  
Eldarion wrapped his shaking fingers around Anduril, Flame of the West, the sword of the Kings. The young man felt tears blurring his vision.  
“I shall do my best to be worthy of such a blade. I will make you proud.”  
Aragorn smiled, tears also in his eyes. He touched his son’s cheek, making him look at him.  
“I am already proud of you, son.”  
***************************************  
Words had been sent away to call for the ones who had been chosen to go in the East. Ana was already beginning to prepare their departure, organizing their provisions, their weapons… For now she was in one of the oldest chambers of the White City, where the knowledge of the kingdoms of the West of Middle-earth was safely kept and protected. She was surrounded by all the maps of the Eastern lands she had been able to gather, trying to find the best paths for her and her companions to take. She turned on her chair when she heard footsteps echoing upon the floor of polished stone. She smiled at the sight of the King of Gondor.  
“Already getting ready to run away?” he asked, the ghost of a smile curving his lips.  
“You know how much I hate politics. I will soon have to run for my life.”  
A silence fell between them. The torches were enlightening the dark room with a soft shade of red and gold, the fading roar of the blazes breaking the stillness of the old memories that haunted the dusty air. Finally, the witch spoke again, her low voice sounding like a cry in the deep silence.  
“Have you taken a decision?” she asked the King.  
“I have indeed,” he answered slowly.  
He looked at a map that had been thrown away on another table, examining the fading lines of black ink that traced the roads and the boundaries of their world. Just a few drops of dark ink, that had led them to so many wars and deaths and desolations in the past, so many sacrifices for a line on a piece of parchment… And now he was sending his son to defend these same lines too. He sighed heavily, letting the map fall back on the table.  
“Eldarion shall go with you.”  
The witch frowned hard.  
“I beg your pardon?”  
“Eldarion, my son, shall accompany you and your companions to the East.”  
She could not believe her ears.  
“But, if I may…”  
“The decision has been taken, and shall not change.”  
“You cannot send your son.”  
“Why could I not?”  
“Because I cannot assure you that he will come back. Because I need a warrior, not a Prince…”  
“Eldarion is an excellent fighter. He is the best Captain I have. And he must go, he must see what is out there.”  
“He has never killed anyone,” she protested. “He has merely arrested a few criminals, that doesn’t make a warrior of him. There has not been any fighting in Gondor for years.”  
“It is precisely why he must depart by your side.”  
“This mission is everything but an educative expedition.”  
“I would be grateful if you could watch your tone.”  
She bit her tongue.  
“We have known each other for many years,” she said more softly. “We have known each other before the War, when you were only a Ranger in exile, and we have always been friends. You have always trusted me, all those years…”  
“And you have always respected my judgement as well.”  
“I cannot promise he will come back.”  
“Noted.”  
“And if he does come back, he will not be the same.”  
“It is one of the purpose actually, my old friend. He needs to live what he may have to face in his own lands one day. The meeting has shown one thing: many think we are overreacting. If they keep thinking this way, we may have to fight for the protection of our people. Eldarion needs to remember that. He needs to learn from others too, he needs to open his mind to the world.”  
He leaned towards the witch, looking intensely in her green eyes.  
“I trust you, Ana. If there is one person in Middle-earth to show him, and to bring him home safely, it is you.”  
He stood up, striding through the room.  
“I guess there are no words I can say to make you change your mind?” she called.  
“None my friend.”  
“And I guess my point of view does not count at all, and that I should consider this as a command from my King.”  
On the threshold, Aragorn turned around again. The light of the torches was igniting Ana’s eyes, already burning with anger.  
“You may do so, if it eases your mind.”  
He walked away, leaving the witch alone to fight her anger. She regretted so much the days of Strider the Ranger…  
*****************************  
“So your father accepted after all?”  
Eldarion nodded, a bright smile on his face. He looked at his best friend for a while, but didn'tÂ answer. He knew he didn’t need to speak for Eren to understand his thoughts. After all, they had been friends since childhood. Eren’s father being one of the King’s advisers, and a very respected General, Eren had spent most of his childhood in the Halls of stones of the Citadel. Eldarion and him had learned to read, and write, and fight together. They were like brothers.  
“When are you leaving?” Eren asked.  
“I don’t know yet. As soon as they have all arrived I guess,” Eldarion answered.  
“I’m happy for you. But I have to admit that I shall miss your company.”  
Eldarion smiled once again, patting his friend’s shoulder.  
“I won’t be gone for such a long time I’m sure.”  
“I wish I could come with you.”  
“And how could Minas Tirith survive without one of its best soldier?”  
“I am merely a Guard of the Citadel…”  
“Your father is a commander in our army, I doubt that you will remain a soldier for long. Who knows… perhaps you shall be a Captain when I come back.”  
“I hope you will not be gone so long.”  
Eldarion didn’t say a word, and merely set his brown gaze on the city before him. From the tower, they could see the city and the long blade of grass of the Pelennor splayed under the sun.  
“I think I will miss this view,” the Prince finally whispered.  
“I would miss it as well,” Eren admitted. “It is home.”  
Eldarion suddenly turned to his friend, setting his intense brown glance upon him.  
“I need you to do me a favour.”  
“You know you can ask anything from me,” Eren earnestly answered.  
“Could you look after my sisters while I’m gone?”  
Eldarion ran a nervous hand through his jet black hair.  
“I mean…” he went on. “I would feel better if I knew that someone in the city was taking care of them. I have always been the one who made sure that they would be safe…”  
“You can count on me.”  
The two men exchanged a smile, before setting their glances back upon the golden fields bathed with the red light of a dying sun.  
Both their hearts were heavier than they would admit.  
*********************************  
During the three days that followed, the witch did her best to avoid Eldarion. She did not like the fact that the decision had been taken without her, and more importantly, she believed the Prince was not the best choice possible. He was known to be skilled with a bow and arrow as well as a blade, but it was not enough for the witch. She was looking for people fully trained, but more importantly, kind hearted. She was going in the East under the will and the blessing of all kingdoms in Middle-Earth because she was leaving in order to investigate on the Orcs’ movements, but she was secretly hoping to do some good too along the way. She was known to help populations wherever she was going, and again her will to help the ones in need was the strongest. She was not only travelling in the Eastern Lands to spy, she was going there to help people on the road too. She had chosen people who had the same will of defending the weakest and helping the poorest, except for Eldarion. He was not altogether evil, and she knew it, but still compared to the others, he could destroy everything. All her efforts were going to crumble down if the Prince could not see how important it was to help the people they were meeting as they were progressing eastward. What if he refused and pushed them onwards without a look behind? She did not know him enough to be sure that he was not narrow-minded. And for as long as she was in the Castle, she could not betray herself, and the Prince was a risk she could not take, and so she took great care in remaining as far from him as possible.  
Adhalan spent some time with the Prince however, advising him on how he could organize their departure. The Elf had never been in the Eastern Lands either, but she did her best to help him getting prepared. She had a kind nature, and found the young man friendly. They were getting along quite well, and soon her first apprehensions were dissipated. He was an excellent fighter, and seemed strong enough to endure long journeys. She was quite satisfied by the choice of the King by the end of the first week.  
The first warrior to arrive was Eoden, Captain of the Rohirrim. He bent gracefully before all Lords and Kings and Ladies and Queens who had gathered to welcome him. His hair was long and blond as corn bathed in the summer sun. His beard covered his strong jaw, and his blue eyes were like two drops of azure sky. He was tall and strong, in his early thirties, and though all his being let transpire strength and let guess his skills in combat, he had a gentle way of talking, and moving, and behaving in general. He looked like the most powerful Rohirrim, feared by his foes, and yet his touch was softer than rain. He felt awkwardly uneasy in official circumstances, and for as long as he was forced to meet important people, his face was tensed.  
But at last he arrived at the level of the witch, and a smile curved up his lips.  
“Ana! How long it has been my friend!”  
He took her in his big arms and crushed her against him, and she laughed, hugging him as well.  
“It has been far too long indeed!” she laughed.  
Â The King Eomer put a hand on his captain’s shoulder.  
“We have much to discuss,” he said.  
Eoden nodded and followed his King to the Council Chamber, and there they all discussed of the mission they were planning. At the end of the meeting, Eldarion guided the Rohirrim to his room.  
“This will be your furthest journey from home yet then?” Eoden asked the young man.  
“It will be indeed,” he answered.  
“And why did Ana choose you, if I may ask? After all, it seems to me that you are not friends.”  
“My father appointed me to represent our Kingdom in this mission.”  
“Oh, I see…”  
Eldarion looked at the warrior.  
“What do you mean?” he asked.  
“Well… Ana did not seem particularly fond of you, and it was hard for me to see the reason why she had chosen you. But it is clear now.”  
“I believe she is avoiding me,” Eldarion confessed.  
Eoden let out a laugh.  
“As we are going to spend a lot of time together, let me give you an advice concerning Ana. She is the most generous and the bravest person I know, but it always takes her some time to trust anyone.”  
They arrived before the door of the Rohirrim’s bedroom. Eoden put a hand on the doorknob, but turned towards the prince again.  
“Do not judge her by the way she behaves with you for now. She will need some time to decide if she should trust you or not, but once you have earned her friendship, it will be granted to you forever, and you will see that there is no more loyal friend than her.”  
“Thank you for your advice, I shall remember it.”  
“One more thing if I may,” the man of Rohan added. “I hope you will agree to abandon the titles between us. It shall be quite annoying if we cannot even call each other by our names.”  
Eldarion smiled at him.  
“I hoped you would agree to it myself, Eoden.”  
“Thank you again for showing me the way.”  
Eoden closed the door behind him, leaving the Prince alone in the corridor, a satisfied feeling brightening his face. He liked the warrior, and he felt he would be a great ally if the Prince wanted to bring down the witch’s defences.  
******************************************  
Eoden and Eldarion were closer every day. They spent hours fighting, enjoying such a competitor to fight, and they would pass entire afternoons in the old room where Eldarion used to train alone. They would come out in the early evening, sweating, their muscles aching, but laughing all the same. Eoden was an honourable and kind man, and Eldarion liked the simplicity of his being, while the man of Rohan appreciated the merry mood of the Prince and his sharpness of mind. The Rohirrim insisted on Ana getting to know Eldarion better, but despite the fact that he himself was becoming friend with the young man, the witch was still keeping her distance. When she spoke with the Prince, she was courteous, but always distant, a cool tone in her voice. Her green eyes grew worried when he entered the room, and her beautiful and graceful face, full of kindness, was suddenly tensed when she heard his name. But at the arrival of the two Dwarves, she was forced to change her attitude, for the two brothers were merry and wanted the whole group to gather and discuss their journey. They were both stout, with dark hair and long beards decorated with elaborated rings of silver. After he had finished his second beer, Urin finally spoke, his cavernous voice rolling through the gardens in full bloom.  
“I believe you have already set up a course for us to follow, my dear Ana.”  
The witch winked at him.  
“Everything is ready. We can go whenever you and your brother are rested enough.”  
“Just give us a couple of days, and we’ll be ready to slain as many Orcs as you can get!” said Goin, laughing loudly.  
“That is only if you remain sober enough!” said the She-Elf.  
Urin narrowed his eyes, and snorted loudly.  
“I could remind you that we Dwarves are excellent drinkers!”  
“Good drinkers does not mean you can hold this liquor!” said Eoden, laughing.  
“You, Blond-Charmer, should not get involved in that debate!”  
“Now that you have called me by this stupid nickname again, I reckon I should, on the contrary.”  
“Don’t mind them,” said Goin to the young Prince, leaning towards him. “They’re all a bit crazy!”  
“You are the craziest of us all!” protested Urin.  
“You old maggot, 'course I’m not.”  
“Yes, you are,” agreed Eoden.  
The group was laughing, and merry, and Eldarion was glad. He liked the personality of all of  
them, and believed that they could all get along fine, and even become great friends. Only Ana remained cold with him. But nonetheless, as the hours were flying away and the afternoon was slowly bringing orange shades to the sky, he could guess another side of her personality. She had laughed, and been merry, and when she smiled it seemed to him that the world was getting brighter, and her eyes were shining with a thousand tickling sparks of joy, that seemed like trembling stars over the treetops of a long forgotten forest. When time came for them to talk about their journey, and their rations, and their weapons, and all the things they had still to plan before their departure to the Eastern Lands, her voice was strong, and command made her tone firm. Her knowledge of the world was great and though her face seemed to belong to a woman in her early twenties, her wisdom betrayed her age and the many lives of men she had already spent travelling and protecting Middle-Earth. Although he had grown quite tired of her distant behaviour towards him, he could hardly help himself from feeling impressed by her. Finally, when the evening was already old and stars were lighting up the infinite sky, the six Guardians finally headed back to their rooms, for everything was now settled and planed. Final preparations would be made the next day, and two days later, they would start their long journey to the East.  
************************  
“Are you certain that you are taking enough food?”  
“Yes, mother, I am.”  
“And your clothes?”  
“Everything is ready.”  
“Are you sure you have all the herbs your father and I gave you?”  
“Yes, mother, in my bag.”  
“And the maps, what about…”  
But Eldarion shushed her, chuckling.  
“Mother, I am ready to go. I am not forgetting anything, I am sure.”  
Arwen took her son in her arms.  
“This whole idea is folly!” she said, squeezing him against her.  
“Mother…”  
He made her look at him.  
“I am ready to leave. I have to. I must see by myself all the dangers father and you have taught me to fight, I must see the world as it is beyond the safe walls of our City. I have to go. Do you understand?”  
She caressed tenderly his cheek, nodding, her eyes full of tears.  
“I do understand. But to me, you are still the baby who used to cry when he could see neither of his parents. To me, you are still my little boy, and you always will be, for it is the doom of parents to worry about their children long after they have stopped needing them.”  
Eldarion took his mother in his arms again.  
“I will always need you, mother,” he said softly.  
“I love you, Eldarion.”  
“I love you too.”  
A knock on the door broke the silence of their embrace, and Aragorn came into the room. Eldarion and Arwen let go of each other.  
“It is time,” said the King. “Everything is ready. You shall take the path that leads to the Mountains, and nobody will notice your departure, nor know the direction you have taken. Is Anduril by your side?”  
Eldarion nodded, holding the pommel of his sword. Elessar got closer to him, resting his hands on his son’s shoulders.  
“Be careful, my son.”  
“I will.”  
Aragorn took his son in his arms, his eyes wet with tears. He knew he had taken the right decision, and yet in his chest his heart was breaking at the sight of his son leaving him.  
“Promise me,” you whispered in Eldarion’s ear, and not even Arwen could hear what Aragorn was telling his son, “promise me to come back safe and sounds. Promise me you will come back to us.”  
Eldarion tightened his grip on his father, fighting tears.  
“I promise,” he answered.  
A silence endured for a while, before Aragorn spoke again, his voice made shaky by his tears.  
“I love you, son.”  
Eldarion closed his eyes, feeling warm tears flowing down upon his cheeks.  
“I love you too, father.”  
When they looked at each other, both of them were crying.  
Â They walked out of Eldarion’s room, after all three of them had dried their cheeks, and Eldarion bid farewell to his sisters, holding them close to him one by one. Finally, he was ready to leave, and he joined his companions in the Hall of stone, and before the throne of his father, all the Kings and Lords who had come to the Council were gathered to see their departure. As they were about to leave, after the Kings had blessed them with the good will of all the Free Folks, the Hobbits took a step towards the Witch.  
“Here, for the road,” Pippin told her, handing her some tobacco leaves.  
She breathed deeply the scent of Longbottom Leaf, the best pipe weed of the Shire.  
“Thank you Pip,” she said, kissing the Hobbit’s brow.  
They shared their goodbyes, and the Hobbits said farewell to Eldarion too.  
“You… be careful on the road,” said Merry, who was particularly fond of the man.  
“Do not worry about me, Merry, I’ll be just fine.”  
“If you listen to what she says, you will be,” Samwise advised him.  
“I will, Sam.”  
He stood up and joined the other Guardians. They walked through forgotten tunnels and paths carved deep in the rocks of the Mountains. When they finally came out, a swift breeze was reddening their cheeks, and the light of the stars were shining brightly. Eldarion turned around, taking one last glance at the White City, its walls bathed in Moonlight. He felt his heart tightening in his chest, a weight suddenly bending slightly his shoulders. He knew he missed his home already. But he shook himself, standing straighter again, turning around, and following the others in the deep shadows of the night.


	2. Death And Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of things are going on in this chapter as I settle the story. I hope you like it. Again, I’ve separated the paragraphs of two different timelines with these ’—–’ and paragraphs belonging to the same timeline with those ’***’.  
There will be scenes of violence through this fic (including this chapter), so if you don’t feel comfortable with that, you shouldn’t read what follows (I mean by that some sword fighting and everything).

It was raining. In the great hall of stone, they could hear the raindrops crashing against the stones and the roof, and the wind roaring through the castle. Eldarion drank a gulp of water, his throat slightly dry. Everyone in the hall was carefully listening to his words. He felt strange before so much interest. He had lost the habit, perhaps, to be the centre of attention. Before his journey East, he was often stared at, but no one was asking him anything. He was the Prince, and was thus respected, but he was only a Prince. His father was the one who was listened to. He had never been prepared in Minas Tirith to be the one towards whom everyone turns in the most desperate moment, when the shadows are the thickest upon the world and that no hope seems to shine in the horizon. But in the East, it had been a very different story. He had found himself a charisma that kept hope alit in his friends’ eyes, and made his enemies shudder. He had led, and advised, and ruled… He had shouted speeches before thousands of men, defended halls of stones and wood, he had killed, and fought, and almost died more than once. He had risen again after falls that were so high he didn’t know which miracle had allowed him to be standing once more. He had done much more than what he had been sent away for. He was a strong and respectful grown man now.  
But before the judges aligned before and around him, he felt like a child all over again. Despite his tall and strong silhouette, he felt little and weak under the high roof of stone. The statues around him seemed to look at him disapprovingly. And the stare his father was throwing at him was piercing his heart. He didn’t look like he trusted his son. He looked like he had been betrayed. And the mere thought that his father could imagine for just a second that Eldarion had betrayed him was unbearable to the Prince. It was the worst part of this whole thing, since he had been back to Minas Tirith : these constant questions, the inquisitional glances, the reprobating looks, the little frowns… As if tales about his journey had reached the white City before he could come back. And Eldarion couldn’t say that he was surprised. The Guard had voluntarily wrapped his journey in mystery and secrets, it was only a logical consequence that lies had formed in their wakes.  
Still, it was painful for him to look at his father…  
“Where did you go first?” Eomer asked him.  
Eldarion put down his glass of water next to his chair, before answering to the King of Rohan.  
“Ana thought it was important for us all to train together, before rushing into the wild. The advantage of being six was that we could split the group in three pairs, and thus be much more efficient. It was obvious the two dwarves would be paired together, but it was something else entirely for the rest of us.”  
“What do you mean?” Faramir asked Eldarion.  
“The two dwarves are brothers, and are both skilled in very different areas. It was important to create pairs that were as complete in skills as possible. Eoden and I, for example, are both strong and good swordsmen, when Adhalan has always preferred archery. It was obviously more interesting to pair Adhalan with Eoden or myself than to gather the two men together.”  
“And yet the two dwarves remained united,” Faramir pointed out.  
Eldarion shrugged.  
“They are brothers, there is nothing you could ever say to separate them. It was obvious really. The only question that remained was for the four of us.”  
“How did you decide?”  
Eldarion cleared his throat, shifting on his uncomfortable tool. No one knew where they had gone, even then, at the very beginning of their journey.  
“We aimed for Ithilien first,” the Prince answered slowly. “It was safe, and we would have supplies in food and water for a while, we could take a bit of time to know each other better… It was a good way to start smoothly.”  
“You lost time then, is that it?” the Master of Lake-Town asked him suspiciously.  
“I wouldn’t say that,” Eldarion answered elusively.  
“What happened in Ithilien?” Faramir asked the Prince.  
A sad smile appeared on the Prince’s face.  
“Many things, indeed…”  
———————————————————————  
Five Years Earlier  
Ithilien  
The sun was warm on his skin. Birds were singing in the trees, the scent of flowers carried by the soft breeze tickled his nose. He loved Ithilien. He had been there several times with his parents, and he reckoned it was his favourite part of Gondor. It was strange for him to think of Ithilien as a part of his kingdom actually, the nature and the life there was too wild and free, and he didn’t think that these lands could belong to any man. It was nature and wilderness in its softest form. He could hear the rushing of a waterfall coming to his ears. He breathed deeply the pure and cool air, and let it fill up his lungs. But he was soon torn away from his reverie by the sound of the Witch’s voice walking before him.  
“We should hurry,” Ana said. “We need to reach the Pool before nightfall.”  
“The Pool?” Eoden asked. “Where is this place?”  
“Not far,” Ana reassured him.   
“I thought we were aiming for the edge of the Dead Marshes, before heading North, to walk around the water.”  
“There is first something I’d like to check,” she answered elusively. “And we’ll need a safe shelter.”  
Eldarion looked cautiously at the woman.  
“Why… you are keeping secrets already,” he said, the bitterness in his tone badly hidden.  
She froze, turning around to stare back at the man who walked behind her. She didn’t like him. She had felt since the beginning that it was a mistake to bring him along, but now she was absolutely certain that it was an awful idea. She knew he wasn’t evil. He wasn’t idle. He wasn’t complaining. He was quite funny, actually, he had a good sense of humour.  
But he was a prince.   
Though he didn’t look at them as his inferiors, she could see in the way he held himself that he had been taught to look like he was superior. He was fragile despite his muscular silhouette. He had never known pain, and it was one of the most dangerous things about him, that could bring doom upon their group. He didn’t know enough about life…  
She didn’t like him, and the situation between the two had not improved since they had left the White City, only a few days before.  
“Perhaps I just don’t trust you,” she snapped.  
He flinched, but quickly regained his composure. He stood a bit straighter, if possible, in a very royal way.  
Ana thought she might throw up.  
“I would be grateful if you did not insult me,” he said, frowning slightly with his growing anger.  
“It was not an insult, merely an honest statement.”  
“Can I at least know why you refuse to trust me at all?”  
“I don’t trust politicians.”  
“I am no politician.”  
“What are you then? A warrior? Let me laugh…”  
“Please.”  
Eoden jumped before the two of them before any could add another mean remark.  
“And I thought we were all adults here,” Eoden sighed.  
“It’s not my fault if…” Eldarion began.  
“Please, we have heard enough bickering for one day,” the Rohirrim interrupted him.  
Ana rolled her eyes, and resumed her walk among the trees, her soft steps shushed by the smooth grass.  
“Why do we have to hurry anyway?” Urin protested. “We are in Gondor still. These lands are safe.”  
“Yes, but I will need to go after the night has fallen if I want to reach the place I seek discreetly,” Ana replied.  
“Are you saying that you are planning on going there alone?” Adhalan asked.  
“Adh…”  
But the elf took her arm, forcing the Witch to turn around and face her friend.  
“You are not invincible. It is the reason why you have not been sent alone.”  
“I do not need your help to achieve what I am about to do…”  
“We said we would split into pairs,” Eldarion said. “You should at least bring one of us with you.”  
“Listen to the child,” Adhalan nodded, ignoring Eldarion’s wince at the name she had used for him. “He speaks wisdom now. At least one of us should go with you.”  
Ana sighed.  
“Alright… But first, let’s hurry. We must find shelter for tonight.”  
“Where are we heading?” Goin asked, panting to keep up the pace set by the Witch.  
“Henneth AnnÃ»n,” she answered.  
Eldarion smiled. For long he had wanted to see the legendary waterfall, where Faramir and his men had lived when Mordor was still a shadow menacing the world, and the Ring of Power was still in Middle-Earth.  
“Have you ever been there?” Eoden asked the young man.  
Eldarion shook his head.  
“But I have heard many tales about this place. ”  
“Faramir used it during the War,” Ana added.   
“I thought no one but the soldiers of Gondor could go there,” Adhalan said, frowning slightly as she looked at her best friend with worried eyes. “I thought that anyone who would go there but Men of Gondor would be sentenced to death.”  
“Lucky for us we have a man of Gondor with us then,” Ana replied, without looking at Eldarion. “Besides, I doubt that Faramir would sentence me to death for using our old shelter.”  
“Our shelter?” asked Eldarion, raising up an eyebrow. “Do you mean that you have been there before?”  
Ana stopped, catching her breath after having climbed a little hill. The rest of the group soon joined her, and they all looked at her as she stared into nothing, her eyes set upon the blue sky and the green leaves, though they could only see visions from her past.  
“It was a long time ago,” she said softly, and her expression was gentle and sad all of a sudden. “It was before Sauron was defeated. It was before Strider became Elessar. It was before the Elves all left these lands. It was in a time when we needed to fight to be free… It was in another life. ”  
She looked at Eldarion, her wild green eyes piercing through him to his soul.  
“It was during the War…”  
She looked away again, and walked down the hill.  
“Come on, we still have a long way to go.”  
********************************************  
The sun was falling at what seemed to be an incredibly great speed. The fire that the golden orb had set to the sky was bathing everything around the travellers. A scent of flowers and sugary fruits floated in the air. Eldarion couldn’t understand why the Witch was in such a hurry. She was almost running throughout the wild woods of Ithilien, when all the man wanted to do was walk slowly through the generous nature that surrounded them. Behind him, he could hear the heavy panting of the two dwarves as they struggled to keep up the pace set by their guide.  
“We’re almost there,” Ana reassured her friends, glancing over at the tired dwarves.   
“I hope for you… that a comfortable bed… awaits us there,” Goin stuttered between his heavy breathing.  
“I would not have much hope if I were you,” Ana replied. “No one has used this shelter for years.”  
She suddenly stopped, and Eldarion looked up to follow her gaze across the wilderness. He remained struck by awe.  
He had imagined the hidden shelter in a million different ways. His father and Faramir often spoke of this place as their conversation often drifted to the days of the War they had fought together. Eldarion’s memories about his childhood were painted with those scenes : the King of Gondor and the Prince of Ithilien, sitting in the gardens under the cherry trees in blossom, their gazes lost on the remaining mountains of the Dark Land, speaking about the dark days they had survived to. The King would carry his young son upon his laps, and talk to him about Wargs, and Orcs, and Goblins and Faramir would tell him about the raids he led in Ithilien, and the armies of Mordor… until the little boy, his head full with stories and his eyes drenched with tiredness, would fall asleep in his father’s arms. And in his dreams, he would walk through the curtain of water that hid the entrance to this sanctuary lost in the Enemy’s lands. But nothing had prepared him to the sight that laid before his eyes.   
The water glistened with the golden light of the sinking sun, and every droplet of water looked like a drop of liquid sun. The wild flowers that grew on the rocks coloured with rich and joyful shades the cascade. The pool that laid before the waterfall and in which the wild waters fell in a loud and yet soft cry, alit with the burning fire of the last lights of the day as well, seemed to be made of pure gold. Eldarion didn’t know how high the fall was, but he was feeling like a very little thing before this prowess of nature.  
He started when Eoden put a hand on his arm, tearing him away from his thoughts.   
“I have to say, that it is quite a beautiful sight,” the Rohirrim smiled, as he looked with amused eyes at the awe that shone in his friend’s eyes.  
“Indeed,” Eldarion breathed, looking sheepishly at the ground, as he followed the others towards the pool.  
They slowly climbed the old staircase hidden in the stone that led to a passage behind the waterfall. By the time they climbed to the top, trying to avoid the broken rocks and the slipping stones, it was almost night. Darkness had covered the path before their feet, and as they reached the curtain of water, the moon was rising slowly from the horizon. Eldarion followed the Witch through the darkness, leaving the dark purple sky as a ceiling for a moist and cold sky of rocks. There was no stars for now to light their way, and soon, after only a few steps into the cave, they couldn’t see their own feet.Â Eldarion made a movement towards his bag, but Ana let out a little laugh that stopped him.   
“No need for fire,” she told him over her shoulder.  
She made a slight movement of her hand, and all the old torches that still hung at the walls were suddenly alit with bright flames. Eoden patted the young man’s shoulder.   
“You will get used to it. Do not worry, my friend.”  
Eldarion merely nodded in response, and he followed the smiling Witch further into the cavern.   
The debris of an ancient hiding place were still visible under the thick layer of dust that time had poured on the cave. And old wooden table still stood there, in the middle of the large room, chairs rested against the walls, an old chest barely visible under the dust was set in a corner… There were still weapons hanging at the walls, or leaning against the wet stones, as if they were ready to be taken by the next warrior that would pass this way, as if time had stopped there, in this wet and cold cave carved in the strong stones, and was waiting for new soldiers to hide there. Eldarion put down his bag, and took a look around, walking further into the cave, whilst the others were preparing a fire.  
“When did you come here exactly?” Eldarion asked the Witch, as he opened a chest covered with dust and dirt.  
It was full of old maps, and when he picked one up, and unfolded the old and fragile parchment that looked as if it was going to disappear between his fingers, he could see the old boundaries of his Kingdom. Red crosses seemed to indicate camps. The camps of the Enemy…  
“I fought among Men for a while,” she answered softly. “Gandalf sent me South to keep an eye on the Cities of Men.”  
She seemed sad, tortured even, at the mention of her past.  
“I did not mean to upset you,” Eldarion told her, his voice gentle and understanding. “I am sorry, I should not have asked…”  
“There is nothing wrong in being curious,” she reassured him, though her tone was quite cold.  
Eldarion decided not to talk about this subject anymore, but Ana spoke again, and the Prince didn’t dare to interrupt her.  
“I remained under the shadow of Mordor almost as long as the Hobbits’ journey lasted. I did not walk out of Ithilien but to follow Faramir and his men to Osgiliath, and then to fight at Minas Tirith.”  
They all sat down around the fire, and Adhalan picked up some elven bread from her bag, giving a piece of the energetic food to each of them.  
“I do not like to talk about the past,” the Witch confessed. “We do not live in such a world anymore… or at least I hope we don’t.”  
Her gaze drifted towards the curtain of water on her left, and she seemed to be watching at scenes that had been playing in her head many times since they happened for real. Her right hand came resting upon her stomach, and she remained still for a while. When she spoke again, her voice sounded far away, and was barely audible above the sound of the thundering waterfall.  
“I hope so many deaths were not in vain…”  
She shuddered, coming back to reality, and she set her green, infinite gaze upon the Prince of Gondor. He felt stupid for staring at her so intensely, but he couldn’t help it somehow.  
“Does your father talk to you about the War?” she asked him.  
Eldarion couldn’t think of any other moment when she had spoken to him with a tone that was neither cold nor distant. It sounded honest on the contrary, as if she hoped to finally have someone with whom she could talk about demons that kept torturing her at night.   
“Well…” Eldarion mumbled, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “He told me everything there is to know about… 'History’. Not much about the reality of it, I have to say.”  
“The reality of it?” Eoden asked.  
“How it feels, how it makes him feel… He told me the glorious side of it. But I have never been able to imagine how war could bring glory to anyone. I imagine it… more like a nightmare of some kind.”  
No one spoke for a while. Ana was intensely staring at him. But her glance was not cold. Eldarion could even guess that she agreed. After a few minutes, he started to shift, feeling uneasy under the green stare of the With.  
“What is it?” he asked her.  
Ana shook herself, looking down at the loaf of bread she hadn’t started to eat yet. A small smile formed on her lips.  
“Nothing I… I am merely beginning to think… that I might have been wrong about you.”  
She looked up at him again.  
“But it’s just a guess for now.”  
Eldarion nodded, an encouraging smile on his lips.  
“I hope I will turn this guess into a certitude,” he said.  
“We shall see quite soon, I’m sure.”  
Ana stood up, handing back her bread to Adhalan.  
“I am not hungry, thank you. I think I will sleep now. I must leave before sunrise.”  
“Someone must go with you, wherever it is that you are heading to,” Goin insisted again.  
“Where are you going anyway?” Eldarion asked the Witch. “Why are you setting so much mystery around it?”  
She looked intensely at him again. The ghost of a smile appeared on her lips as a thought crossed her mind.  
“Well, if you want so much to know, perhaps you could be my bodyguard?” she said, an amused smile now perfectly shaping her lips.  
Eldarion did not hesitate for a second.  
“Of course I will come with you.”  
“Good, it’s settled then.”  
The Witch walked out of the cave, and went sitting outside, next to the waterfall. She looked up at the stars that were slowly appearing into the sky, fluttering memories that reminded her of a past she hoped to forget one day.   
She didn’t need to turn around to recognize the sound of Adhalan’s steps coming her way.  
“Are you certain?” Adhalan asked her friend bluntly, standing next to her and peering down at her with eyes full of doubt. “About bringing the child with you.”  
“He is no child, Adhalan,” Ana answered, not detaching her gaze from the dark sky.   
“He looks like one,” the Elf replied.  
“Let’s hope you are wrong, my friend. We need no child on this journey.”  
“I could come with you…”  
But the Witch shook her head.  
“We need to get along,” she said. “I… For the sake of this mission, I need to learn to trust him, or to know him better at least.”  
Adhalan nodded.  
“I guess you are right, but you could…”  
“It will be a good thing for us to be together for a few days, alone I mean. I will try not to strangle him out of annoyance…”  
“If he is not able to defend himself…”  
Ana stood up, shaking her head.  
“Strider would have never sent his son if he did not think he was able to look after himself. And Aragorn is one of the best swordsmen in Middle-Earth. I am sure he taught his son everything there is to know about fighting… and surviving.”  
“I hope you are right…”  
“I hope so myself. Anyway, you should not be worried. I am not planning on taking any risks this time.”  
“And what are you planning on doing then?”  
Ana looked at the wild lands before her once more.  
“Many things indeed…”  
********************************************  
He started when he was torn away from his dreams by the feeling of a hand touching his upper-arm. He had been dreaming about his mother. He kept dreaming about his family ever since he had left the White City. He had seen her standing there, under the White Tree in full bloom, white petals falling on her dark hair. She was turning around, smiling at him, when he had been awakened.   
“It’s time to go,” Ana told him.  
He cleared his throat, managing to open both his eyes simultaneously, and nodded. He sat up quickly, and hurried to get ready.   
He knew they needed to get along. For the sake of the mission, they needed to trust each other. If his life was at stake, he needed to know she would be there for him, and he needed to show her that he would be there for her as well. But there was more to it… He felt drawn to her somehow. He felt like he needed to know her better, that he needed to understand her, that… It was a very strange feeling he didn’t know how to name. He felt like it was somehow his destiny to fight by her side.  
He was torn away from his thoughts when the Witch talked to him again.  
“Are you ready then?” she asked.  
He nodded, and followed her outside.  
“Where are we going then?” he asked as they reached the muddy ground.  
A fresh breeze blew across the forest, making the branches bend slightly, the leaves whispering secrets of their own. Ana turned towards the man by her side.  
“I want to go see a friend first. Then, we will have to check something.”  
“What is it?”  
They started to walk away from the waterfall, and deeper into the woods.  
“After the Ring of Power was destroyed,” Ana said softly, slowly, her voice low, “Mordor fell. What Sauron had darkened died and disappeared with the Evil Master who had created them. But the shadows that lay on these lands will never really disappear. The earth has known too much evil for too long to forget. That’s why beasts and trees still refuse to go there, just like men of Gondor flee before these Mountains.”  
“I do not understand why we have to go there,” Eldarion admitted, his heart tightening in his chest at the thought of going in those desolated parts of Middle-Earth.  
“Evil men live there. They remained near Nurn after the fall of Sauron, or came there after he was destroyed, no one really knows. They are far away, and I doubt that their eyes are turned towards Gondor. But I heard that some had come to what was once Minas Morgul. I need to know if these rumours are true.”  
Eldarion nodded.  
“And you think that only the two of us will be enough to deal with them?”  
“I do not intend to fight, merely to take a look at whatever is going on there.”  
Eldarion nodded again.  
“I see. But we won’t be there until tomorrow noon, at least.”  
“I guess you will have to bear my presence for longer than you thought.”  
“I do not dislike your company. As long as you do not try to insult me.”  
“I do not insult you. I’ll try to make more efforts.”  
“And I will try to make some as well.”  
Ana looked at him again. Her pace was slow now. Eldarion even thought that she did not want to go see this old friend of hers. He wondered if this person was really friendly to her, or if she had used sarcasm.  
“Did your father taught you the way of the Rangers of the North?” she asked him.  
Eldarion nodded.  
“Some at least,” he answered.  
“What about scouting?”  
“I can be silent enough, if this is the sense of your question.”  
“It is.”  
“You can be reassured then. I know how to walk through the woods without being heard.”  
“Good. We will need this skill of yours.”  
Suddenly, there was no canopy above them. Eldarion looked up at the sky, black infinite stained with balls of cold lights. He finally realized that they had arrived to one of the roads that crossed Ithilien. The wind was stronger now, and was making the leaves sing in a hushed and trembling whisper that accompanied their walk through the wild.  
“If I may ask…” Eldarion said after a long silence. “Why did you guide us to Henneh AnnÃ»n, if you wanted to go to Minas Morgul? We could have crossed the Anduin at Osgiliath, and pass by the Cross-roads.”  
She seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden, and she tried to ignore his question. But he insisted. Birds were already singing the song of the coming morning, and the crickets were louder than ever around them.  
“It would have not been very discreet to accompany the Prince of Gondor throughout Osgiliath, don’t you think?” she answered. “Someone would have recognized you, that is certain.”  
“You could have saved us such a detour though, even if you did not desire to take us through Osgiliath.”  
“I did not want the others to know where we are going,” she confessed.  
“Why?”  
She stared at him for a while, before finally answering.  
“Because they would not have let me go there,” she answered.  
He forced her to stop and to look up at him in the eyes.  
“What are you up to?” he asked.  
But his tone was not angry. He sounded curious, nothing more.  
“I guess… that you will find out by yourself sooner or later,” she replied elusively.  
He could hear sadness in her voice. She was expecting him to insist, but he merely nodded instead, and they resumed their walk down the road. As they didn’t walk in the wet grass and the bushes anymore, they were walking much faster, though Eldarion couldn’t help but notice that the Witch wasn’t walking as fast as she could have. The sun was slowly rising above them, and as they marched closer to Ephel Duath, Eldarion suddenly realised that there was no sound around them anymore, but the thud noise of their footsteps on the dirt.   
———————————————————————-  
Present days  
Minas Tirith  
“So… you had barely left the White City that you were already wasting your time!”  
The Master of Lake Town could not hold back his irritation any longer. He had not yet forgiven the Guard for what had happened in his City a few years before, and he was still especially bitter over the Prince of Gondor.  
“I have to say that I do not understand much about your story,” Eomer said softly.  
Eldarion shrugged.  
“You asked me…”  
But he was interrupted by the opening of the great doors behind him. He couldn’t refrain a smile as he distinguished the silhouettes of three hobbits hurrying behind two guards of the Citadel. They hurried towards the King of Gondor, who had stood up from his comfortable chair.  
“I am sorry your Highness…” one of the guard stuttered. “But they insisted on seeing you now.”  
“Do not be sorry, they were expected to arrive today,” the King reassured his guard, before warmly greeting his old friends.   
Finally noticing the Prince sitting in the middle of the room, Merry, Pippin and Sam suddenly abandoned Aragorn and hurried to join Eldarion. A part of the Kings and Lords gathered in the Hall rolled their eyes, except for those who knew the hobbits well, and those Lords merely smiled at the sight of the hobbits all hugging the young man.  
“How are you?” Merry asked him, concern painted all over his face. “Are they treating you right?”  
Eldarion let an amused smile appear on his lips.  
“We are in the Halls of my father, Merry. Do you really think that they would hurt me in any way? At least before the trial has ended?”  
Pippin and Sam turned their outraged faces towards the assembly.  
“You should all be ashamed!” Pippin said, his voice shaking with anger. “How can you think for just a second that Eldarion could murder someone?!”  
“I warn you, if anyone tries to hurt this lad, he shall have me and the entire Shire to deal with!” Sam warned the Kings who sat before him.  
Eldarion couldn’t help but chuckle. He put a soothing hand on the hobbits’ shoulders.  
“My friends, do not worry about me. I am certain all this will be sorted out just fine. Why don’t you take a seat, instead of shouting warnings to these mighty lords?”  
“Mighty lords or not, I dare any of them to try to get close to you,” Pippin said firmly.  
He turned towards Aragorn, his infuriated expression still painted on his face.  
“And you can be sure that you shall not have any pipe weed or any goods coming from the Shire as long as your son has not been released. We are closing our borders and stopping all commercial alliances with your Kingdom, in a gesture of protest against this whole big joke that this trial is!”  
Aragorn was left speechless. He was struggling to decide if he ought to get angry or to laugh.  
“Pippin, please. There is no need for such extreme decisions,” Eldarion tried to soothe the hobbit.  
“Why would you not take a seat?” Aragorn said slowly, still aghast. “We were only at the beginning of Eldarion’s tale.”  
The look he threw to his son made the Prince’s heart break. It seemed that his father had learnt many things about his son’s journey, and Eldarion knew much of them were lies. But he doubted now that his father would believe him if he denied the stories the King had heard, and it was breaking his heart.   
The hobbits walked towards the chairs that were brought for them next to Elessar, and they remained quiet for a while, and let the trial continue, though Aragorn knew that he would have to deal with new outbursts from his friends before the day was ended.  
“So… you were saying that you walked with the Witch for a few days, after you had reached Ithilien. ” Faramir said, bringing back the attention of the Lords gathered in the Hall of Minas Tirith onto the young man sitting before them, “You said you were heading towards Minas Morgul.”  
At the mention of the dreadful fortress, Sam winced, but he didn’t speak a word.  
“Indeed, we walked together, following the ancient road,” the Prince answered. “We did not come across anyone on our journey, it was just the two of us all along. I cannot say that it was a most pleasurable journey, as we still had troubles in our partnership, but we managed to remain courteous all along.”  
“I have heard that you and the Witch were quite close friends though,” Aldir said in a frozen voice.  
The Prince of the Easterlings, the man who was accusing Eldarion of murder, had not yet spoken since the trial had begun. He had merely stared at Eldarion, glowered at him, but he had not spoken a word yet. Eldarion merely looked cautiously at him, sitting a bit straighter on his stool.  
He knew why Aldir was saying this… And he was not ready to talk about the nature of his relationship with the Witch. It was a way too complicated relationship indeed.  
“We became much closer with this journey in Ithilien, actually,” Eldarion answered, weighing the meaning of every single one of his words.  
“And what about this friend of hers? Did you find him?” Eomer asked.  
Eldarion nodded slowly, and he seemed rather sad for a moment. He seemed reluctant at talking about what they had seen in Ithilien together.  
“We have indeed.”  
“And? Who was he?” Eomer insisted as the Prince didn’t seem to be willing to pursue.  
Eldarion looked up at the King of Rohan.  
“We arrived at the Cross-Roads,” he said slowly. “He was there.”  
“He was waiting for you?”  
Eldarion stared intensely into the King’s glance, and it was obvious that it required much of his strengths to let the words pass his lips. All could see that he had never talked about this to anyone before.  
“I would not say it like this, your Highness…” Eldarion said slowly. “Though, I guess you can say that he had been waiting for many years…”  
“I do not understand,” Faramir admitted.  
Eldarion looked at him.  
“There was no one there. No one came back to live in those lands after the War, not so closely to the Mountains. There was nothing there. Nothing… but a tomb.”  
————————————————————————-  
Five years earlier  
Ithilien  
What he first noticed was the statue of the King. The head of the leader had been replaced once by a rough sketch of the Great Eye, but after the fall of Barad-dur, after the lands of Ithilien had been freed from the Enemy’s servants, the statue had been cleaned and repaired, and the proud figure was standing sternly above the Cross-Road again, keeping a careful watch upon the roads. Eldarion was suddenly feeling uncomfortable, as if something terrible had happened there. There was no sound at all around them, they were too close to the dark mountains, and even the trees seemed to start to get less and less tall, less green, less welcoming. He felt like he was not wanted in this land.  
“You may wait for me here, I must go alone from now on. I will come back for you, and we shall go to Minas Morgul together,” Ana suddenly told him.  
Eldarion frowned.  
“Why should I remain behind?”  
“Why? Are you afraid of remaining here on your own?” she tried to escape from his question.  
But the man was not fooled.  
“You still do not trust me at all, do you?”  
“I thought we had agreed to remain courteous.”  
“I am being courteous. It is obvious though that your behaviour towards me is still unchanged. Why can I not come with you?”  
She turned around to face him, but he didn’t find the anger he was expecting to see on her graceful face. Instead, she seemed sad, suffering even, and when she spoke again, her voice was soft and gentle.  
“I need to go alone. I am not going to be in danger. I just need to do this on my own. And it has nothing to do with my trust in you. Please, do not insist for coming with me.”  
How could he say no to these infinite green eyes when they seemed so sad…?  
“Alright,” he nodded slowly, his tone matching hers as he spoke in a warm and low voice. “But I do not feel comfortable here. These lands are still ravaged by sorrow and grief. A shadow still lays on this part of Ithilien. I do not wish to leave you alone for too long.”  
An amused smile appeared on her lips.  
“What now… Are you worried about me?” she asked, an amused glint alit in her eyes.  
He gently smiled.  
“I guess it is my role here, is it not? Am I not supposed to be your bodyguard?”  
She let out a wave of laughter, and the whole world around them seemed to be much brighter than before, as if the darkness that had remained there for years were momentarily chased away. He guessed that it was one of her powers as a Witch.  
“I shall give you twenty minutes,” Eldarion said more seriously. “If you are not back by then, I will come looking for you.”  
“It may take longer than twenty minutes,” Ana protested.  
“Then I guess I shall meet this friend of yours after all.”  
Ana nodded, defeated. She knew he was too stubborn, she would not change his mind. He was like his father on this point…  
“Alright then. I shall see you in twenty minutes.”  
And without another word, she turned around, left the road, and walked through the trees, leaving Eldarion behind, standing alone in the middle of the Cross-Road, the stern figure of the king of stone watching him.  
********************************************  
After twenty minutes he couldn’t take any more of it. A terrible feeling was tightening his throat, crushing his heart under his ribs. He felt like he was watched, he imagined spying eyes in every shadows, whispering voices in every hushed sound of the breeze. Though the sun was shining quite brightly still, it seemed pale and the rays of sunshine were cold on his skin. He now understood why this part of Ithilien was still avoided by the men of his Kingdom. There was a shadow clouding the warmth of the sun…  
He advanced towards the trees behind which the woman had disappeared. His father had taught him how to follow the traces of someone in the wilderness, and without any difficulty, he followed the path the Witch had taken. It took him almost ten minutes to find her again. And he remained frozen on the spot when he saw her silhouette kneeling on the ground.   
There was no one with her. She was alone, kneeling there, her back to him, in the middle of a clearing. It was a mere circle of dry grass, with no flowers nor bushes, as if the land had been burnt by a fire a few weeks before. Eldarion could feel in his heart that something terrible had happened there…  
The Witch was motionless, her head down, she looked like she was praying. The Prince of Gondor immediately regretted to have come there. He should have left her alone, he could feel it, although he couldn’t understand what the woman was doing there, kneeling still on the grass. He took a step back, willing to disappear and to wait for her a few meters away. But he stopped at the sound of her voice.  
“There is no need for you to go,” she said softly. “I was about to leave anyway.”  
“I did not mean to interrupt you…” the Prince said, uncomfortable.  
She stood up, but remained still for a moment, her back to him. Eldarion caught the sound of a whisper, and a few seconds later, a single white rose grew at the Witch’s feet. She then turned around to face him.  
He could not help but notice her reddened eyes, though when she spoke again her voice was firm and neutral.   
“You can ask, you know?” she said. “I know you must be dying to ask about what I was doing.”  
He intensely stared at her for a while, before slowly shaking his head.  
“I do not think you would like to talk about this,” he said, his voice gentle.  
It was her turn to intensely stare at him.  
“It’s kind of you,” she whispered.  
He merely shrugged in answer.  
“Are you certain that you do not need more time on your own?” Eldarion asked kindly. “I can wait for you at the Cross-Roads if you wish.”  
She shook her head, walking to him.  
“No, there is no need. But thank you for offering.”  
“Let’s go then.”  
He made a movement to turn around and go, but she stopped him. They stared at each other for a moment, and she opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head.  
“You can tell me when you trust me,” Eldarion shushed her.  
She gave him a small smile, and nodded, before following him through the trees, heading towards the road once more.  
*******************************************  
Eldarion looked cautiously over the rock behind which he was hiding. The smell of rotting meat was making him sick. He had more and more difficulties to control his nausea. The dark earth seemed like burnt, and the dust it created was making his throat dry. His eyes were stinging as he struggled to pierce the thick veil of darkness before him, and was at the same time blinded by the intense light of the fire that burnt a few meters before him. The dark ruins of Minas Morgul that stood above and around him were freezing his blood in his veins. It was hard for him to control the shakiness in his hands and the rhythm of his breathing. All he wanted to do was leave this place as fast as possible. He could feel the evil that still lingered in every rock, in every broken wall, every burnt piece of wood, even the air was filthy and burnt his throat. He just wanted to run away from there. But he knew he couldn’t…  
He felt Ana shifting next to him.  
“What can you see?” she whispered.  
He started to silently count.  
“Nine men,” he whispered. “All armed.”  
“Only nine?”  
“There are two dogs as well.”  
“I guess it must explain the smell…”  
“Yes, they are eating some rotten meat.”  
“And the men?”  
“They are talking, but I cannot hear anything from here.”  
She remained silent for a moment, before asking him one more question.  
“Are you sure that there are only nine men?” she asked, still partly lost in thought.  
“I can see only nine of them,” he nodded. “But perhaps there are more hiding somewhere.”  
“Well, take a better look then,” she said.  
He glared at her, and she rolled her eyes.  
“You have elven blood running in your veins,” she said. “You have a much better sight than I do.”  
He frowned slightly, but took another look over the rock anyway, taking care at remaining safely hidden.  
“I cannot see any more men.”  
She looked intensely at him.  
“But what does your instinct say?” she asked.  
He furrowed his brow.  
“I am afraid I do not understand the meaning of your words, Ana.”  
She heaved a sigh.  
“The blood of the Rangers of the North and the blood of the elves run through your veins. You must trust your instinct. You must see with more than your eyes.”  
They stared at each other for a moment.  
“Now, how many men are out there?” she asked again. “Only nine? Are you sure?”  
He looked at the men before him again. They were laughing loudly, drinking alcohol. Their clothes seemed to have been worn for too many winters.   
“Come on, think,” she said softly. “If you cannot see everything, then guess what is hidden to your eyes.”  
But Eldarion could not see anything more, and the educative tone of the Witch was beginning to annoy him.  
“Why do you not take a look yourself?” he asked.  
She could hear the annoyance in his tone. He was surprised to say the less when he felt her hand resting on his forearm in a soothing gesture.  
“If you want to survive into the Wild and into the strange lands where we will wonder, you must learn to listen to every part of you. You must listen to the man, but also to the elf.”  
He looked at her for a moment, before focusing on the group of rogue men before them. He finally noticed swords leaning against a wooden chest. It was too dark for him to distinguish how many there were…  
“I need the elf now, Eldarion,” she whispered, her voice soft and gentle. “Look.”  
He narrowed his eyes, and despite the darkness, he could barely distinguish the sheath… But he could count after a while.  
One, two, three…  
A man passed before the weapons to pour himself another glass of wine.   
Seven, eight, nine…  
The dogs started to bark loudly. He could hear their breathing from afar. It seemed to him that he could have almost understood the words the men spoke.  
Ten, eleven, twelve.  
“There are twelve swords,” he whispered.  
Ana nodded.  
“They’re not all there then.”  
Eldarion shook his head, still staring at the scene before him. She could hear his breathing quickening.  
“Are you alright?” she asked, suddenly worried.  
She was afraid she would have pushed him too much too quickly. They had left the White City only ten days before…  
“Something is coming towards us,” he whispered, turning towards the Witch. “I can hear it coming.”  
“From where?” she asked.  
“Behind you.”  
She turned around, just in time to see a man appearing a few meters away from her.   
The man growled. He was around forty, tall and strong. She could smell from where she stood the intense odour of sweat coming from him. A long rapier was fastened to his belt, and she distinguished several rings around his fingers, all made of gold. Comparing to his old and worn-out coat, they seemed out of place. She guessed he had stolen them somewhere. He looked like a dangerous criminal after all…  
“Who are ya?” he asked in a rough and raspy voice.  
He withdrew his sword from its sheath, and Ana could hear the men gathered around the fire standing up and calling for their comrades. Eldarion and the Witch stood up as one man, and when the man rushed towards them they were both ready to welcome him, their swords at the ready.  
Eldarion opened his mouth to speak. He wanted to talk to them, to tell them they were not seeking any trouble, that they wished them no harm… but before a single sound could pass his lips, the man had jumped before them and Ana was dodging a powerful strike of his sword. Eldarion took a deep breath, turning towards the rest of the men who were hurrying towards them already.  
He knew there was no place for words from now on.  
His father had always repeated the same advice when it came to fighting: he needed to empty his mind. There was no time for thoughts on a battle field. Only actions and reactions. So he took a deep breath, and chased away from his brain the blurring smokes of thoughts that had gathered in his mind.   
And the rest was all his father had advised him: actions and reactions.  
A sword coming on his right: he blocked it with his own blade. A fist flying his way, aiming for his head: he bent down to avoid the punch. And again, and again, actions were analysed and reactions were set in motion at such a speed that his brain could not understand all the information that were coming. Eldarion’s body was working on reflexes.   
When he pierced the chest of a man, Anduril plunging all the way between two ribs, Eldarion did not understand what his gesture would mean. He had only reacted and repeated the movements he had learned and practiced hundreds of times in Minas Tirith. And his attention was driven away so quickly from the man by another enemy coming on his right that he did not even understand what he had done when he pulled out his long blade, now darkened and drenched with blood, and that his eyes saw the red liquid flowing out of the man’s mouth and chest. His eyes saw, but were already looking somewhere else. And he turned towards the next man he had to face.   
The only feeling he was really aware of was the presence of the Witch behind him, her back touching his. And it was enough to ground him into reality. Until he could not feel her warmth against his back anymore…  
Indeed, one of the thugs had managed to hit her hard on the head, making her fall to the ground in a thud. Her vision was blur and her head was spinning for a moment, long enough for the man to pull her by the hair and to make her let go of her sword. She let out a cry of pain trying to hold her hair to ease the violent tugging. But before he could pull her up completely, the hold of the man disappeared from her hair, and she had just enough time to see Eldarion’s sword sway into the air, cutting the man’s throat, blood gushing all around him. He fell in a thud, the low groan that passed his lips mingling with the sounds he made as he struggled to breathe, drowning in his own blood. She looked up at Eldarion as he knelt down next to her.  
“Are you alright?” he asked, worry painted all over his handsome face. “Are you hurt?”  
She shook her head.  
“I’m fine,” she said. “What about you?”  
“I am unhurt,” he said.  
Slowly, he calmed down, his heart slowing down, his thoughts coming back to his mind as the adrenaline slowly dissipated from his veins. The first thing he could register as his brain began to work again, was the blood that stained the woman’s brow.  
“You’re bleeding,” he said.  
She swept the blood away.  
“It’s merely a scratch,” she reassured him.  
He nodded slowly, and finally noticed the blood that was softly gleaming on his sword. He turned two wide eyes towards the scene around him. And he finally realized what had happened… and what he had done.  
He stared intensely at the man that laid next to them, his hand still pressed upon his cut throat, on a last, desperate gesture to earn a few more precious seconds of life before Death could take him away. Eldarion’s vision suddenly became very blur.  
He did not start this time when the Witch gently put her hand on his shoulder.  
“Are you alright?” she asked softly.  
He could hear worry in her voice, but he couldn’t gather the strength to look away from the man he had killed. He could not tear away his gaze from the hand still clasping desperately, though the blood was only slowly flowing out of the wound by now. He was transfixed by these two dark eyes, wide with shock and terror; he was transfixed by the blood, the blood everywhere that made the dark earth steam…  
“Eldarion.”  
She shook him this time, and he forced himself to nod his head.  
“What?” he answered in a voice so hoarse that he could barely recognize it as his own.  
“Look at me.”  
She forced him to turn his attention towards her again, but the second his gaze met her deep green eyes, he stood up, and staggered for a few steps, not knowing in which direction he was heading, only knowing that he could not let anyone see him like this. Lost. Guilty. Desperate…  
“Eldarion, wait!”  
“I need to be alone for a minute,” he managed to mutter.  
But she took his arm again, and forced him to turn around.   
“It was the first time you killed, wasn’t it?” she asked slowly, her tone kind and gentle.  
Her graceful fingers gently stroking his upper arm was the most reassuring gesture anyone had ever had towards him. He finally gathered enough strength to hold her stare.  
“Yes,” he answered in a shaking whisper. “I had never… killed before.”  
She nodded, a reassuring smile curving up her lips.  
“Well, you are dealing with it much better than I did,” she smiled. “I threw up the first time I killed a man.”  
A small smile appeared on his lips.  
“Actually, I am fighting very hard not to throw up right now.”  
Her smile widened.  
“It’s normal.”  
He nodded, but it only made his head spin faster.  
“You should sit down for a moment,” she advised him.  
A few meters away, the dogs had abandoned their rotten meat for the corpses of their former masters. Eldarion could hear their sharp teeth shattering bones and flesh as they ate.  
“I’m fine,” he said.  
He cleared his throat, and drank a gulp of water from his gourde.  
“We should take a look at their camp,” he said, nodding towards the dying fire.  
Ana nodded, picking up her sword from the ground.  
“Let’s go then.”  
He followed her towards the fire, where only a few blazes were still fighting to burn into flames. She strode directly towards the wooden chest, and quickly opened it. It was full of jewels and weapons.  
“Thieves?” Eldarion asked.  
She nodded.  
“I do not think that they belong to the men of Rhun. They must have merely found shelter here.”  
She pushed the shining jewels and the daggers away, clearly looking for something…  
“What are you looking for?” the man by her side asked.  
“Papers,” she answered, “letters, notes…Â anything that could help us put a name on their faces.”  
Eldarion looked around him, but there was nothing but the fire and the chest in the camp that could have hold documents of any kind.  
Ana finally found a folded piece of parchment, and she handed it to Eldarion as she resumed her search in the chest. Eldarion unfolded the note.  
It was nothing more than a few words written in a hurry. The parchment was dirty and he could recognize the letters traced in dark ink. Though he had not learned this language, he knew enough about the War to recognize the alphabet…  
“It’s Black Speech,” he said gloomily. “I cannot read it though.”  
Ana finally gave up her search, heaving a sigh and hoping that the note would give her the information she was looking for.  
“You do not know the tongue of Mordor?” she asked.  
He shook his head, handing her back the note.  
“I guess it is one of the first things we should teach you,” Ana said, taking back the dirty piece of paper. “I have to say that I am quite surprised that your father has not taught you this language himself.”  
“He made me learn many tongues of Men, Dwarves and Elves,” Eldarion answered. “But not the tongues of Orcs.”  
She looked up at him.  
“One should know his enemies even better than he knows his friends,” she said.  
She started to read the note, and a worried expression appeared on her face.  
“What does it say?” Eldarion asked.  
“Trouble,” she answered, a worried expression on her face. “Lots and lots of trouble. It says that these men were to bring a message of peace to the men of Nurn. It says that G was grateful for their trust, and that he would pay them in Angarad.”  
“Angarad? It is a city in Rohan, is it not?”  
The Witch merely nodded.  
“And what about this 'G’? Who is he?” Eldarion asked.  
“Well… If we could answer this question, we could probably all come home here and now.”  
She folded back the letter and put it safely in her pocket.  
“I have heard of him several times. I do not know who he is,” she added.  
She looked at the dogs for a moment as they ate one of the thieves. But Eldarion could guess that she was not seeing them.  
“Is he responsible for all the unrest in the East?” he asked her.  
“I don’t know,” she answered with a shrug.  
She suddenly turned a worried glance towards him.  
“We should go. If these men were expected, the news of their death will soon be brought to the ears of the men they were to meet.”  
“We should bury them,” Eldarion protested.  
Her gaze softened, and she put a reassuring hand on his shoulder again.  
“We don’t have time for that. We must go, and we must go now. Leave them here. The dogs will take care of the bodies, if they are not found soon enough.”  
He looked at her with eyes full of shock, but she ignored him, and he followed her as she left the camp, heading back towards Ithilien the way they had come. He did not notice it, but Ana took great care at erasing any trace of their presence as they walked away from the camp. Not a trace of their footsteps remained on the dusty ground, and she checked the camp and the bodies quickly one last time before leaving, making sure they didn’t leave any clue that could reveal their identity if someone found the ravaged camp.   
She was playing at a very dangerous game with an adversary she didn’t know. A very dangerous game indeed…  
************************************************  
They walked restlessly for several hours, even if both of them were exhausted. The fear in the Witch’s eyes was enough to force Eldarion to take one step after another, despite his stinging eyes. He was still holding his sword in his hand, just in case some kind of enemy would suddenly jump out of the shadows, and the now dried blood was darkening his blade. It was late, the moon was already high in the sky, above the treetops that covered the shining stars. Far away, clouds were darkening the sky even more, and in the shadows of the night, distant flashes of light accompanied the crashing of thunderbolts upon the trees. They had not stopped for a minute, they had not eaten anything either, and both their stomachs were craving for food. Their legs were painful and longed for rest, but Ana was too scared of being found to stop walking. Behind her, Eldarion walked in silence, not complaining about the long rush through the forest she was imposing on him. He was merely following her, his sword in his hand, and she knew he was listening to every sound of the night.   
Finally, they came to a point when none of them could walk anymore. They stopped at the first shelter they found, a little cavern, only two or three meters deep. It was a little, confined, wet hole in a hill, but above their heads, the dark clouds were coming closer and closer every second, and soon the thunder would have reached them and covered them with its heavy rains, and any shelter seemed better than to sleep under the stars. The cavern was just large enough for them to light up a fire and to sit at the back of the cave. They hurried to gather dry wood, and Ana merely had to blow on the twigs to light up the fire. Soon, it was raining outside of the little cave, whilst Ana and Eldarion warmed their hands to the fire. They ate in silence, trying to get warm as the rain had brought coolness to the night.   
Ana was carefully examining the silent Prince who was eating next to her. She could see that, despite his obvious hunger, he had to struggle to swallow every one of the mouthful of bread he took. She could see in his eyes this feeling he was trying so hard to hide : the horror to see Death in the eyes, to stare at this ghost and to survive to this meeting by losing your soul. She had had the same look in her eyes once. But now, Death was like an old friend of hers, never too far from her path, though never meeting her to take her away.   
But Death had taken so many of her friends away…  
“You should clean your sword,” Ana told the Prince, nodding towards the man’s blade that laid unsheathed on the ground next to him.  
Eldarion nodded slowly. He gave up at trying to eat any more food, even if his stomach was still painful with hunger. His throat was too tight, the lump too big to accept food anyway. He took his sword and a piece of fabric, but when he rested the cloth upon the blade, he found himself unable to clean the cold metal. He felt like all the blood on the blade was on his own hands.  
Ana saw him clenching his jaw.  
“Thank you, by the way,” she whispered.  
Her voice was barely audible above the sound of the falling rain outside the cave. Eldarion looked up at her, and she held his stare, though she seemed slightly uncomfortable.  
“You saved my life,” she said. “Thank you.”  
Eldarion nodded slowly.  
“There is no need to thank me for such a thing.”  
She let out a little laugh.  
“Actually, I reckon that it is the best reason to thank someone,” she replied.  
They exchanged a small smile. Eldarion’s hand was still clenching at the cloth, perfectly motionless.   
“I guess… I should apologize as well,” Ana added.  
Eldarion raised an eyebrow, still staring at the Witch.  
“Why?” he asked softly.  
They stared at each other for a moment, two motionless figures before the dancing flames of the fire and the falling raindrops of the storm that raged outside. But it seemed like none of them could hear neither the thunder of the storm, nor the cracking of the blazes, they merely stared intensely into the other’s eyes… and soul.  
“I think…” she said softly, slowly. “I think I may have misjudged you.”  
Eldarion gave her a forgiving smile.  
“Well… Apologies accepted,” he smiled. “I think… I think we should start all over again, don’t you?”  
Ana smiled back at him.  
“It sounds quite fair indeed.”  
She offered him her open hand.  
“Friends?”  
He shook her hand, with a wide smile on his lips. He had not had such an earnest smile since the attack on the camp.  
“Friends,” he nodded.  
But when he let go of her hand, he was still unable to wash the red blood that stained the blade that rested on his laps. She could read in his eyes that an intense battle was raging inside of him. One part wished to be strong, and to overcome what had happened at Minas Morgul, like he would have overcome a nightmare that had haunted his sleep. But the other part couldn’t forget. The other part kept his mind full with visions of the scene, with all this blood flowing and splashing and fuming and… all this death around him. And all this blood he was seeing, he saw it also on his hands, covering his palms, and fingers, and nails, like a ghostly layer of invisible proof left by his mind that was there to remind him what he had done, who he had become… He had killed. And though he had defended himself, and defended Ana, in his mind, he saw no difference between himself and these men, these outlaws he had killed. His conscience tortured him. In his own eyes, he was nothing but a murderer.  
And Ana knew this feeling, and remembered it enough to know how much he suffered now.  
“When I went alone at the Cross-Roads…” she started. “I guess I can tell you now, that we’ll try to be friends…”  
She stopped, and before she spoke again, Eldarion interrupted her, his voice warm, though shaking slightly.  
“You do not have to tell me. I understand, if it is something… you prefer to keep private…”  
“I think I can tell you. I trust you not to say all this to the others though. They will worry if they know where we went.”  
Eldarion nodded.  
“You have my word.”  
She locked her gaze upon the dancing flames, encircling her knees with her arms.   
“Before the War, when there was still a shadow in the East… I lived for a while in Gondor. It was when Denethor was still Steward, and Faramir was not even Captain by then. I lived in a little village, near the Anduin. I healed people, mostly. Gandalf was away by then, I don’t know where he was exactly all these years… Anyway, there was this little boy… Her mother had died several years before after falling from her horse, and when I arrived into the village, his father was very sick. There was nothing I could do. They were poor and… they didn’t have the money to go see a healer, and he had not been treated. When he died, his son was just ten. He was just a child, without any family, with nowhere to go… I couldn’t leave him alone. So I decided to take care of him, to raise him like his parents would have done if they had not died too soon. I remained there for six years. But then the War began…”  
He could see tears shimmering in her eyes, melted in the expression of anger and rage, of sorrow and grief.   
“First I had to go with Gandalf, when the Ring of Power was found to be Bilbo’s old ring he had taken from Gollum. Whispers of battles could be heard here and there, and we were becoming rather scared… I helped your father seeking for Smeagol. But as we could not find him, Gandalf sent me to watch over the Ring Bearer. The East and the Wild Lands were not safe anymore. It was around the time when Elrond called back your mother to Imladris. I remained for a few years in the Shire, watching over Frodo. Then, the situation throughout the North became more and more critical, and I was attached to a group of Rangers in the North and the East, guarding the borders of the free kingdoms. Around the time that Gollum was taken by Aragorn, before Frodo was sent to Rivendell, I left, and went South again, mostly to help the soldiers to fight against the growing forces of Mordor, but also to spy on Sauron and his servants. I hadn’t been back in years… For almost seventeen years I had fought and roamed across Middle Earth, and I knew what we were facing. I went to Ithilien, and offered my services to the Captain there.”  
“Faramir,” Eldarion completed for her.  
Ana nodded, her eyes still fixed on the flames, though she didn’t seem to see them dancing before her.  
“I have to say, that it was the last place on Middle-Earth where I expected to see him…” she went on, a small smile curving up her lips, though her eyes were still fogged with tears. “This boy I had raised like my own… He was there, much older. He was fighting under Faramir’s command. We had been separated for years, but he still remembered me, and it felt… it felt like we had left each other only the day before. We fought for months in Ithilien, almost a year, until…”  
A tear rolled down her cheek, tracing a glimmering line in its wake on the pale and soft skin of the Witch’s face.  
“I lost him for just a second. One moment he was next to me, but then I was punched, and the time that I could come back to my senses… It hadn’t been longer than a second, a blink of an eye… but it was enough.”  
She swept a second tear away.  
“There was nothing I could do. I merely had the time to take him in my arms, to hold him for a second, like I used to do when he was a child, and then… he died.”  
She sniffed.  
“I always come back to the place where he died when I come to Ithilien, where he is buried, with all the men we lost that day. And I always make a flower grow. Adh… she thinks it’s not good for me. That I’m hurting myself. But…”  
“But it hurts even more if you don’t go and see him,” Eldarion finished for her.  
She stared at him again, and he could see the flames reflected in her eyes reddened by her cries.  
“I may be a Prince, I have lost people I loved as well,” he answered to her questioning look. “Why are you telling me all this anyway?”   
She shrugged.  
“You don’t have a choice but to share with me something very personal,” she answered, and he knew perfectly well that she had guessed the battle that he was fighting against himself. “I thought it was much more… fair if I shared one with you.”  
He nodded slowly, clearly touched.  
Â “I know what you’re going through,” she said softly, “I have fought, and killed, and hated myself for it, and thought of me like a monster for all this blood I could see on my hands. If you need to talk about this, I’m here.”  
He smiled, grateful.  
“Thank you,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. “But I’ll be just fine… with a bit of time.”  
“Yes, of course you will,” she nodded.  
Slowly, almost unnoticeably at first, Eldarion’s hand slipped down the blade, and he started to clean his weapon. Ana smiled.  
“By the way,” she said in a lighter tone. “If we are to be friends, I have to warn you, I hate long names like yours.”  
Eldarion couldn’t help but laugh.  
“My name is not that long.”  
“It’s already too long for me,” she replied. “It’s not practical at all! Imagine on a battle field, if I want to call for you! I have to find a shorter nickname for you.”  
She thought for a moment.  
“What about 'El’?” she proposed.  
The Prince merely laughed again.  
“It sounds quite good to me,” he answered. “As long as you are the only one to use it, of course.”  
“That’s a deal then.”  
She rested her back against the stone behind them, and covered herself with a warm blanket.  
“You should try to sleep”, she said when Eldarion had finished to clean his sword and had put it back in its sheath.   
He shook his head.  
“I’m not sleepy,” he replied.  
But in reality, he was fighting hard for his eyelids to remain open.  
“El, you must sleep.”  
He heaved a sigh, but he couldn’t deny his exhaustion. He leaned against the wall of stone as well, and wrapped a blanket around him. Ana extinguished the fire, and soon, they were surrounded with nothing but darkness and the sound of rain still falling upon the tall trees. After a while, Ana could feel that the man next to her was still awake.  
“El, you must sleep.”  
“I know.”  
There was a moment of silence, before Eldarion would speak again. His tone was hesitant, almost sheepish.  
“Ana? Does…”  
He cleared his throat as she turned towards him.  
“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight,” he said. “I… I can’t stop but…”  
“You see their faces every time you close your eyes,” she finished for him.  
She distinguished through the shadows that he nodded. It was so much torture, such a fight against himself… His father had definitely not told him anything about this feeling when he had told him all the stories and glories of the wars of men.  
“After a while, do you stop seeing them?” he asked the witch, and his voice was nothing more than a whisper. “When you close your eyes and fall asleep?”  
She shifted.  
“You learn to live with all this, El. You’ll be alright.”  
“You didn’t answer my question. Do they go away after a while?”  
Ana closed her eyes.  
“No, El. They never go away.”


	3. The Marshes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As there are two different timelines, the paragraphs of the same timeline are separated with these ****** and of two different timelines with these —–.  
I really hope you like this chapter. Please, please, please, tell me what you think about it, it’s very important to me to know what you think so I can keep on improving the storyline.

They had called for a break. A little pause in the middle of the story. An interlude in his tale.  
When his father stood up from his chair, he didn’t have a single look for his son. During all his speech, his father had never met his eyes. Eldarion didn’t really know why the thought was so painful to him. It was a strange thing to think about, that two persons who had been so close and so alike could now act as perfect strangers. Perhaps it was a way for the King to protect himself. Perhaps he was just ashamed…  
Once the Hall was empty, Eldarion was led back to his bedroom, the same he had as a child, the room that had seen him grow up and become a man, the warrior he was now. It was there that he had played as a boy, on this desk that he had learnt to write and read, in this bed he had had so many nightmares and dreams. On the little table he used to draw on with his mother when he was a child, the guard placed a plate with cheese, bread and ham, along with a glass of red wine, before leaving the room. The soldier closed the door behind which Eldarion used to hide from his father when the King was angry against him. The prince didn’t hear any footstep. Clearly, he was allowed not to be sent to the dungeons, but he was still a prisoner in his own home.  
Or well, in this place that used to be his home… He felt like a stranger in these halls now.  
He sat down at the table, and drank a gulp of wine, looking by the window. He could see the peaks of the Mountains covered with white and immaculate everlasting snow. The rain had stopped by now, but the sky was still grey and heavy with rains. He wondered if he would see the first snow fall on the mountaintops this year…  
A sudden and sharp pain pierced his left forearm, and he winced, holding his limb. He took off this glove he always wore, revealing the beginning of a bandage that covered his whole forearm. He stroked soothingly the painful area, feeling the burnt skin cracking under his fingers. He knew he would have to change this bandage soon, and he wondered how he could find the herbs he needed to heal without alarming anyone about his wound. It was not a secret he meant to share yet…  
He started when someone knocked on the door.  
“Come in,” he answered, putting his glove back on and hiding his wounded limb with his sleeve once more.  
As the door opened, he recognised the blond man before him in a second. He had not seen him in five years, but he could have recognized those hazel eyes anywhere.   
“Eren…” Eldarion breathed, standing up.  
But the man froze when Eldarion made a movement towards him, and so they both stood there, still, staring at each other.  
“Nice beard,” Eldarion said, nodding at his friend’s face now covered with a thick layer of golden hair.  
When he had left, Eren used to shave every morning. He looked much older this way.   
“I should not have come,” Eren breathed.  
Eldarion merely stared at him.  
“I thought… I thought it would be good to see you, but I was wrong,” the blond man went on.  
“Good for whom? Me or you?” Eldarion asked back, his voice soft and low.  
“I… I do not know.”  
He made a movement towards the door, but was surprised when Eldarion didn’t make a single movement to make him stay.  
“You don’t seem happy to see me,” he told the Prince, though he was facing the wooden door before him.  
Eldarion shrugged.  
“I would have said that you were not happy to see me.”  
There was a long silence, during which none of the young men moved. Eren was still staring at the door, but somehow, he couldn’t find the will to lift up his hand and reach for the doorknob.  
“Is it true what they say about you?” he asked.  
“I do not even know what they say about me,” Eldarion answered with a shrug.  
“That you are a drunk. That you did not do anything for five years. That you killed a man…”  
Eldarion didn’t say a word, and before his silence, Eren turned around, facing his old friend once more.   
But he couldn’t recognize the friend he had once had in the man who was facing him. The glitter of joy that always shone in his eyes had not completely disappeared, but it was veiled now, as if some shadow had been casted upon his soul. There was a kindness and a softness in his movements and in his deep voice that was not there when he had left. There was wisdom on his brow now, where there was only innocence before. He could see sorrow and happiness both mingled at the corner of his deep brown, almost black eyes.  
It was hard to recognize the boy who had left, but it was hard to see the thug that people described as well. He looked like a King, not a thief or a murderer.  
“You don’t even try to defend yourself…” Eren breathed.  
Eldarion merely shrugged again.  
“I guess… I am just beginning to understand why all this is happening.”  
“Is it true what they say?”  
“I am not a drunk,” Eldarion answered, staring at his old friend, and Eren could see that there were no lies in his eyes. “And I have certainly not remained idle for five years.”  
“And what about murder?”  
“Have you not heard what I said this morning?”  
“It is no murder when you are merely protecting your life.”  
There was a short silence, during which the Prince intensely stared at Eren.  
“You’re wrong,” Eldarion said slowly. “It’s always murder. You take a life, you kill…”  
“If you defend yourself…”  
“It makes no difference, not for the person who kills… Not for me, at least. Sometimes the guilt is not as strong, when you kill someone who is plainly evil. But it is rare.”  
Eldarion sat down at the table again, and took a mouthful of bread.  
“So… Are you still a soldier?” he asked Eren.  
“I’m Captain,” he answered, and Eldarion couldn’t refrain a little smile at the sight of his friend standing straighter.  
“Have you ever fought?” Eldarion asked in a whisper.  
There was no disdain in his voice, it was a mere question, as if he was looking for someone who had lived the same things as he had…  
“I never went to war, if it is the meaning of your question,” Eren answered. “There has been no war in Gondor since the fall of the Enemy.”  
Eldarion looked at the Mountains again.   
“It shall come soon enough…” he breathed, almost whispering.  
He turned his attention back to Eren.  
“How many men are there in the City? Ready to fight, I mean.”  
But Eren merely narrowed his eyes.  
“I do not think that I am supposed to talk about such matters with you.”  
Eldarion merely nodded, though Eren could see the frustration badly hidden in his eyes.  
“I should go,” Eren said, taking a step towards the door.  
“Eren,” Eldarion stopped him as his hand reached the doorknob, “could you tell something to my father for me, please?”  
“What do you want me to tell him?” Eren asked.  
“Tell him I need to see him. I need to talk to him, in private. Without his advisers, without any other King or representative… I need to talk to him, and only to him. Could you ask him for a meeting, please?”  
Eren was surprised to hear a member of a royal family ask something with a very polite 'please’.   
“I’ll ask.”  
“Thank you.”  
“Goodbye, Eldarion.”  
“Goodbye, Eren.”  
When Eren left the room, taking a last glance at his oldest friend, Eldarion was deep in thought, staring at the void on the other side of his window. On the table, his meal had remained untouched at the exception of the mouthful of bread he had eaten whilst talking to his friend. And something was telling Eren that the rest of his meal would remain in the silvery plate.  
***************************************************  
He knocked on the door of the King’s private office. Being the son of a respected fighter and the oldest friend of the King’s son had its advantages. He didn’t fear to come knocking on the door of the King’s office. He knew Aragorn saw him as a second son.  
“Come in,” said Elessar.  
Eren entered the room, closing the door behind him. Aragorn was standing by the window, staring at the green fields that laid around the city. Eren couldn’t help but think about how Eldarion had looked so much alike when he stood before his window only moments before. The King and his son had the same expression on their faces when they were lost in thought.  
“I am sorry to bother you, Your Highness,” Eren said politely.  
“Did you go see him?” Aragorn asked urgently, though there was insecurity in his voice too.  
It was the first time Eren heard such tone in the voice of his King.  
“Yes, I did.”  
“And? What did he say?”  
“He said he was nor a drunk, nor an idle person.”  
“What about murder?”  
“He did not say he was innocent, but I do not think he was talking about the murder of the Easterling.”  
Aragorn frowned, turning around and staring at the young man that stood near the door.  
“What do you mean?”  
“I think he feels guilty about every life he took. He referred to the men he talked about this morning as men he had murdered. I think …” Eren added, shaking his head. “I think he sees every life he took as an act he should be ashamed of, and he feels guilty even if the circumstances called for him to kill without shame. But I do not think he could murder someone in cold blood.”  
Aragorn nodded slowly.  
“No, I do not think he could either. I hope not.”  
“What shall we do then?”  
“We cannot protect him against the judgement. He must face a jury, and be found innocent or guilty, as the judges may decide.”  
“He said he needed to see you in private. He was insistent about it. And… there was something else he said…”  
“What was it?”  
“He asked me if I had seen war. When I told him that there had been no war to be fought in Gondor since the One Ring was destroyed, he said that war would come soon enough to our lands.”  
Aragorn stared intensely at the Captain.  
“He seemed serious,” Eren added.  
“I will go see him later. We must go back to the trial now. Did he eat anything?”  
Eren shook his head.  
“Merely a mouthful of bread.”  
Aragorn sighed.  
“He is just like me on this point, and always has been… He never eats when his mind is troubled.”  
“He seems to be like you in many ways, Your Highness.”  
“Future will tell us if you are right on this statement, I suppose…”  
*******************************************************  
"So… you headed for Rohan, is that correct?“   
The trial had resumed. Now that the Lords and Kings were fed, they were all curious to hear the rest of Eldarion’s tale. Eomer more than anyone, as the name of his lands had been mentioned. Eldarion’s father was still making sure not to look at his son in the eyes.   
But Eldarion shook his head.  
"It was not that simple, I’m afraid.”  
“Where did you go then?”  
“We came back to the Pool, to join the others. The next morning, as we were walking North, we stopped in a little house on the road. We were trying to get some bread for the road.”  
“And? What about this house?”  
“Well… I guess you could say that sorrow was there.”  
“What do you mean?”  
Eldarion intensely stared at the King of the March.   
“Their daughter was missing. She had gone away to look for berries in a nearby clearing. But she had not come back. She had disappeared for five days when we arrived to the house.”  
“You went looking for the girl, then?”  
Eldarion nodded.  
“We started to look for clues in the clearing where she was supposed to have gone to. But it turned out to be much more complicated than what we had thought at first.”  
—————————————————————  
Five years earlier  
Ithilien  
"These are blueberries.“  
Ana took a step towards Urin, looking at the dark fruits he held in his gloved palm, and nodded.  
"That’s what the girl had come here to look for.”  
Eldarion kneeled down in the middle of the clearing looking carefully at the ground.  
“There are traces here,” he said, loudly enough to call all his companions, and soon they were all around him.   
He took a closer look at the footprints in the muddy grass. It had rained the previous week, and surely these traces had been made when the earth was still drenched with raindrops, for they were still carved in the dirt.   
He pointed at a footprint that seemed shorter than the others.  
“These must belong to the girl, the person seemed smaller and lighter than the others.”  
He looked at a bigger mark.  
“These are men’s prints. Or Orcs’, I cannot tell, they are too old for me to read. But they wore boots that’s for sure.”  
“Let me take a look,” Ana told him, and he stood up, leaving the Witch take a look at the traces on the ground as well.  
She nodded.  
“El is right,” she said. “And I think that the reason why you could not tell if the traces belonged to men or Orcs is because there are traces of both species.”  
She pointed at one print, looking at El, and she saw that he was listening closely.  
“These are Orcs’ prints. Do you see the very large heel? it cannot be human’s footprint. But these,” she added, pointing at some other traces. “These are human’s. Do you see the difference?”  
Eldarion nodded, a focused expression on his face, making her smile. He seemed to be willing to learn all that he could. His thirst for knowledge seemed insatiable.   
“But most of them were too much destroyed,” he said. “We cannot know how many of them there were.”  
She shook her head.  
“No, we can’t. But we know now where the girl disappeared. And who is responsible for it.”  
“I have not heard about alliances between men and Orcs since the War of the Ring. And even then, they were answering to Sauron, but didn’t fight together.”  
“I don’t like all this,” Adhalan breathed. “We should not be here, a terrible feeling crushes my heart.”  
“We cannot abandon this girl,” Eldarion protested. “She must have been kidnapped…”  
“She’s probably dead already though,” Goin said slowly.  
“It is our duty to go and investigate further on,” Eoden replied.  
“It is not our mission,” the dwarf replied. “We left to go to the East, not to look for disappeared girls.”  
“What makes you think that these Orcs and Men are not linked to what is going on at our borders?”  
While his companions were arguing, Eldarion had explored further on the clearing, and had found other traces, heading for the trees.  
He looked up at the sky, at the Mountain of the Ephel Duath on his right, and quickly knew where they had been heading.  
“They took her to the Dead Marshes,” he said, loudly enough to cover the sound of the discussion behind him.  
He pointed at the grass next to him once they were all paying attention to his words again.  
“These traces are deeper than anywhere else in the clearing, and they start where you’re standing, where the traces of the girl disappear. Someone carried her towards the trees.”  
The next second, Ana was by his side, examining the traces as well.  
“He’s right,” she nodded.   
“That doesn’t tell me if she’s dead or alive,” Urin said.  
“We must go anyway.”  
“We should head for Rohan…” Goin tried to argue, but the Prince interrupted him.  
“We do not know if she is dead or alive, it is true. But we cannot take the risk. What if she is still alive.? Would you let a twelve year old girl die? I thought we were here to help. We must do what is right.”  
The two dwarves looked up at the Witch, and even before they could speak a single word, she knew that they were expecting from her to take the final decision.  
“What do we do then, Ana?” Goin asked. “Do we keep on looking for her?”  
The woman looked at her elfish friend, and then at Eldarion and Eoden, hesitating. She heaved a sigh.  
“We’re going to look for her.”  
*****************************************************  
The traces were discreet, almost invisible, and many times they thought they had lost the tracks they were following. But with Ana, Adhalan and Eldarion to guide them, the group had all the chances of finding the right path through the wilderness.   
They crossed the woods, and arrived at the Dead Marshes as the sun was sinking beyond the horizon, sending red sparks throughout the cloudless sky.  
It was a swamp. An infinite swamp, continuing beyond the limit of sight. Only muddy waters and little bushes. The scent was terrible, and Eldarion was certain that he would remember it forever. He would never forget the scent of rotting flesh that emanated from the waters, nor the perfume of the poisoned and twisted plants that covered their path, nor the fragrance of death that seemed held in mid-air. There was evil and sorrow upon these lands, of that he was certain.   
And deep down inside him, Eldarion was beginning to doubt. Perhaps it was not so much of a good idea to go there after all…  
“We’ll walk through the marshes tomorrow at dawn,” Ana decided. “It’s too dangerous to walk through the swamp without light. The evil resting on this land is still too strong for us to conquer without the sun.”  
“We should get back under the cover of the trees, it will be safer,” Adhalan breathed, clearly uncomfortable as well to be so close to such a strange place.  
Ana nodded in agreement, and they walked back under the cover of the tall trees, making sure they were far enough of the marshes not to smell its stinking scent anymore. They prepared their encampment, ate together as they had always done since they had left Minas Tirith. And since their misadventure at Minas Morgul, Ana and Eldarion had adopted the habit of eating next to each other. There was no annoyance nor anger left between them, and they were actually becoming close friends. And Eldarion was relieved to be now able to call the Witch a friend.  
As everyone was slowly falling asleep, Eldarion lit up his pipe, breathing in the bitter and yet sweet smoke he liked so much. It was his turn on sentry, and for four hours he was to stay awake and alert to protect his friends. And so as he exhaled a small cloud of smoke, painting crazy forms on the shining heavens, he prepared himself for four hours of focused and yet boring watch.  
But after only twenty minutes, he heard someone walking towards him, and he instantly recognized Ana’s footsteps on the fallen leaves.  
“What are you doing here?” he asked her. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”  
She sat down next to him, warming her hands before the dying fire.  
“I can’t sleep,” she answered. “So, I thought I could keep you company for a while.”  
“I won’t say no to someone to talk to during my watch, that is for sure,” the man smiled.  
There was a moment of silence, as the Witch was lighting up her own long, wooden pipe.  
“El?”  
“Hmm?”  
“How are you these days?”  
The man frowned.  
“I am… perfectly fine. Why would you think the contrary?”  
“I mean… do you sleep again now?”  
He looked at the ground, fleeing from her intense green stare in which the blazes of the nearby fire were shining.   
“I do sleep,” he breathed after a long silence. “Not very well, though.”  
“You’re having nightmares?” she asked, her voice soft and full of understanding.  
“Almost every night. Only when I am exhausted and cannot stay awake because of weariness am I able to sleep without troubled dreams.”  
“It’s normal,” she reassured him.  
He slowly nodded.  
“Do you still have nightmares? After all these years of fighting?” he asked the Witch.  
“They wane after a while, they come less and less often. But they never completely go away.”  
Eldarion nodded slowly, a sad smile forming on his lips.  
“It’s funny, this is the part no one talks about when they speak to you words of honour in war and glory found in combat.”  
“Because it would be admitting a reality that would not be at their advantage,” Sarah answered.  
She was surprised when he went on in her stead.  
“Because there is nothing glorious or honourable in killing a man,” he said.  
There was sadness in his tone, and yet his voice was firm.  
She nodded slowly.  
“Exactly,” she answered. “But then, no one would pick up a sword and learn to fight if they knew what it really means. And once you’ve done it once, it’s already too late. It is a step you can never take back.”  
“It does not always make us evil though, does it?” he asked her. “If you fight for what is right, for what you believe in. If you fight to defend the ones you love, and not for selfish purposes, or out of cruelty.”  
“But you must always remember that many enemies think that they are doing what is right,” Sarah told him. “Not thugs or criminals but… soldiers. It is not because they fight against you that they are evil. They fight most of the time for the same reasons as you do.”  
“I know,” Eldarion nodded. “Which brings us back to the beginning. There is no true honour in war.”  
She stared at him, a small smile on her lips, and the man noticed her intense gaze set upon him after a while.  
“What is it?” he asked her, looking at her again.  
Her smile widened.  
“You are a good man, El,” she said, her voice soft, and barely audible above the sound of the cracking logs of the fire. “And I hope you remain that way despite what we might see. I hope you keep valuing life as much as you do now. I hope you remain good, instead of trying to be great.”  
“Is it a bad thing to be great?”  
She shook her head.  
“Not necessarily. If you can remain good.”  
He nodded slowly.  
“Does my father fit in this category for you?” he asked her.  
“He does,” she nodded. “Even if I still prefer Strider to Elessar.”  
“How was he back then? When he was not a King?”  
“He was always good, always ready to serve and protect. But he was tortured by different things than he is today. He was a man of the shadows, when now he’s under the glances of all in Middle-Earth. I enjoyed the days when he didn’t think only about Gondor, but about Middle-Earth in general. And I preferred the days when he couldn’t give me orders as my King.”  
Eldarion let out a little laugh, looking at the fire again.  
“Can you keep a secret?” he asked the Witch.  
“Of course, I can.”  
“I’m afraid not to be good enough,” he confessed. “I’m afraid to disappoint him. It’s hard to be the son of someone who has done and fought so much, someone so respected. I’m afraid I could never do things well enough for him to be satisfied, for him to trust me with the protection of our Kingdom. I’m afraid I could… not make him proud. And I’m afraid to disappoint Gondor as well.”  
He looked at her, laughing softly again.  
“I bet you find this stupid,” he mocked himself.  
But she shook her head.  
“I think you are merely willing to be good enough for your father to trust you. I do not think it is stupid. I think it’s human. But if I may give you an advice, El…”  
“What is it?”  
She stared intensely at his brown eyes.  
“Do not lose yourself as you try to make your father proud. You are alike on many things, but I can see that you are different as well. Do not try to be like him, or to act like he would have acted if he had found himself in the situation you face. Do not lose yourself. Besides, your differences is what may make you a better King than he is one day.”  
He set his glance on the fire again.  
“I doubt there could be a better King than him one day, though,” he breathed.  
She smiled, before looking down at the fire as well. And they remained there, silent, sitting near the fire, until the man’s watch was over and it was Adhalan’s turn to stare at the darkness of the night.  
********************************************************  
They woke up at dusk. The first lights of the day had barely licked the top of the dark mountains behind them that they were already ready to leave.   
Deep down, they all knew that time was playing against them. It was the sixth day. And none of them could see obvious reasons for the ones who had kidnapped the girl to keep her alive. Her family was poor, it couldn’t be for money.  
Why then?  
“Be careful,” Ana warned her friend as they all stood before her, their packs on their backs, ready to walk back to the marshes. “The marshes will try to kill you. The marshes will try to make you fall into the waters. Don’t look into it. Stay on the path. Walk only were I walk. Is it clear?”  
They all nodded, and followed the Witch as she guided them through the tall trees. The green leaves above their heads were bathed with a light that was so red, they seemed to be bleeding.  
“Keep your eyes open,” Adhalan said, her voice lower than usual. “We should not be here. These lands do not want us here.”  
“We need to go, Adhalan,” Eldarion replied, and he nodded when Ana made a movement to enter the swamp.  
“Do you know the path?” Eoden asked her, following her footsteps as she started to walk upon the narrow pieces of grass.  
“I have not walked through these marshes since I went looking for Gollum, before the War. It was a long time ago.”  
“Can you lead us?” Adhalan breathed, worry crossing her ageless brow.  
“Well… I guess that we shall soon find out.”  
“Don’t look at the water,” the Elf instructed again. “Don’t look at the flames either.”  
Eldarion had heard many tales about the Dead Marshes, although he realized then that they had all been understatements. The scent was the worst. The air was foul, the smell of rotting flesh so intense it felt to him like it entered his body through his skin. It made the atmosphere thick, stiff and almost unbreathable. He tried to breathe through the collar of his shirt at first, but soon the fabric was imbued with this poisonous smell and he gave up. Nausea shook his stomach soon after, and despite his silence, Ana could feel that he was not well.  
“You look pale,” she told him, slowing down her pace to walk by his side, whispering to avoid their companions to catch her words.  
“I’m fine,” he replied, refusing to complain.  
“Are you certain?”  
He nodded.  
“Where does that smell come from anyway?” he asked more loudly, and all his companions looked up at him.  
“The dead,” Adhalan answered, nodding towards the water next to them.  
For a moment Eldarion was tempted to look into the grey water of the swamp. But the words of warning that he had heard a long time ago came back to him, the memory so vivid that he could almost hear his father’s words echoing in his ears.  
Some lands have seen too much darkness to heal, the ghosts of those who lost their lives there still haunt such places. And these are powers and curses that no man can fight against.  
So instead, he merely looked up at Ana, but when he met her eyes, he had the feeling that she had been reading in his mind. That she had guessed his thoughts and the temptation that had crossed his heart. And for the first time since they had fought near the ruins of Minas Morgul, he saw doubt glimmering in her green eyes.  
“Just follow my steps,” she said, and there was warning in her voice.  
He nodded, following her in silence once more.  
After just a few more minutes in the marshes, a greyish fog started to cover the swamp. It was thick and just as poisoned as the air, only now, they were struggling to see their path.  
“This is folly,” Goin blurted out after a while. “This place is gigantic, beside being cursed. We will never find the girl. They could be anywhere at all in those bloody, stinky marshes…”  
“There is only one safe path to cross the Dead Marshes,” Ana replied. “Why would they try to take any other road that would lead them to certain death?”  
The dwarf opened his mouth to reply, but he couldn’t find any argument.  
“I still think that it’s a bad idea,” he merely mumbled under his breath.  
Adhalan suddenly froze.  
“I can hear something,” she breathed.  
They all turned towards her.  
“What is it?” Eoden asked softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper.  
There was something in the elf’s expression that made them all speak in whispers.  
Eldarion closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sounds around him. He had too shush his other senses, forget the strong scent of decomposition, forget the feeling of this mysterious fog that cloaked his skin…  
After a few seconds he could hear them…  
“Voices,” he breathed.  
Adhalan nodded.  
“I guess we’ve found those we were looking for,” the elf whispered.  
“What do we do?” Urin asked, looking up at Ana. “We surround them?”  
“We could get lost with that fog,” Eoden shook his head.  
“We should stick together,” Goin agreed.  
“Adhalan and El will guide us,” Ana decided.  
She smiled at the young man as he walked before her.  
“A few more weeks and we shall make an elf out of you,” she teased, and despite his effort to hide his smile, the little thing curved up his lips.  
Adhalan and Eldarion took the lead, letting the distant sound of voices guide them through the opaque mist.  
They didn’t need long before all could hear the harsh voices bickering though, and soon they were close enough to decipher the meaning of the words that were spoken.  
“You told us we would be paid five golden coins for the girl!”  
“You hurt her ankle, she won’t be able to walk. It’s damaged good!”  
“You’re trying to discuss the price, but we had settled on a price before! And what makes you think that my guys hurt her?! You were there too, remember? Perhaps it’s one of yours…”  
“Watch that tongue of yours or I’ll cut it off!”  
One voice clearly belonged to a man, when the other, sounding like rumbling stones, was too cavernous to belong to a human. Undoubtedly, it was an Orc’s voice.  
Eldarion and his friends stopped when they started to distinguish the pale light of torches alit through the fog, kneeling down to avoid being seen.  
“How many?” Ana asked in a whisper.  
Eldarion shook his head, clenching his jaw in frustration. He couldn’t identify the sources of all those sounds that reached his ears, no matter how hard he tried to focus.  
“Still a bit of work to do to reveal the elf in you, right?” she smiled at him.  
“There are five of them ahead,” Adhalan whispered. “Two more on the left, and four on the right.”  
“There are people crying as well,” Eldarion added. “Probably prisoners.”  
Adhalan nodded.  
“They’re further away, on our right.”  
Ana nodded slowly.  
“El and Urin, the two of you come with me. We’ll take care of those on the left and take care of the prisoners. Adhalan, Eoden, Goin, you’ll have to stop the six others.”  
“More work for us, huh?” Eoden joked, but before Ana could reply, Eoden was already on his feet.  
“Men are so reckless,” Adhalan rolled her eyes, before standing up as well, and following Eoden towards the camp.  
“Let’s go!” Ana patted Eldarion’s shoulder, and she Eoden and Adhalan towards the soft light of torches.   
Eldarion took a deep breath, resting his fingers on the hilt of his sword, the blade still protected by its sheath.  
He knew what he had to do. He had done it before, but he wasn’t sure to be able to do it again somehow.  
The first time he wasn’t really aware of his movements, his actions were made and decisions taken out of instinct, reflexes. But now he knew. He knew about the blood, the sound of swords clashing together, the noises made by a man taking in his last breath, the expression painted over the face of a dying man… He had seen all this before, he had been the cause of it. Could he be the cause of it once again?  
But then the image of a little girl passed before his eyes and he stood up, following Ana.  
Weighing the two options, he had taken his decision.  
This little girl was worth the nightmares that would shake his nights…  
These thoughts had passed through his mind in a matter of seconds, and he was quickly by the Witch’s side once more, right before she would plant her long sword through the back of the closest of her enemies. It was Eldarion’s sword that swung through the stiff air next, stopping a man to strike the Witch. In one more swift motion, Anduril had cut the human’s throat and he fell to the ground in a thud.  
And when Eldarion’s eyes fell on his shining blade again, it was drenched with blood.  
He froze for a second, his eyes moving to the motionless form at his feet, but he quickly shook himself, despite how fast his heart was racing.  
There were all those shouts now, and the sharp sound of iron clashing, and the smell of fresh blood almost covered the poisonous smell of the swamp…  
He shushed his senses for a moment. It was not the time to think of such things, there was no time for hesitation.  
When his eyes came back into focus, an Orc was racing towards him, and as he clenched his jaw, Eldarion was ready to welcome his foe. He dodged the first strike, but it was much stronger than he had expected, and the hilt of his sword went colliding violently with his nose. The cracking noise was sharp and clear, followed by a jolt of pain coursing throughout his whole face, the feeling of a warm liquid flowing down his face and soon covering his lips. He paid little attention to all this though, too busy dodging the Orc’s broad sword again. This time, Eldarion was fast enough to wound the monster’s leg, making his foe fall to the ground, before piercing the Orc’s chest with his blade, the metal darkening with blood a little more.  
Actually, the battle was over before they really realized it had started. Their enemies were not expecting any attack, and their little company was enough to win the battle easily.  
Ana quickly turned to Eldarion as she noticed him holding his face.  
“Are you hurt?” she asked him, worry making her frown.  
He revealed his bleeding nose, but a small smile was curving his lips.  
“Just a broken nose, I will get over it,” he reassured her.  
She inspected his nose, delicately touching the sides of the wounded area, but he instantly winced.  
“It is broken,” she nodded.  
“Hey, look,” Eoden said softly, and both Eldarion and Ana turned towards him.  
He was standing before what looked like a cage, set upon some kind of long chariot that a tired horse was tied to.  
And inside were four terrified children.  
Eldarion’s jaw dropped in horror.  
They were dirty, crying, frightened, and even from where he stood, he could see that they were trembling.  
Ana slowly approached them, breaking the locker with a mere gesture of her hand.  
“We’re here to help,” she said softly. “We’re here to help you, to bring you back home.”  
She slowly opened the door, and extended her hand.  
“Come on, you’re safe now. Can you come down? We will take care of you. Are you hurt?”  
The children looked at each other, but Ana’s voice was so soft and soothing, they soon crawled towards her. The first boy to reach her must have not be older than eight years old, and he wrapped his arms around her neck, clinging on her for dear life. She carried him out of the cage, whispering soothing words in his ear.  
Adhalan and Eoden picked up two others, and Eldarion advanced to help the last girl.  
Considering her features, he guessed that she was around nine years old.  
But she was scared, staring at his broken nose that was now slowly turning in a strange shade of yellow, and although the blood had now stopped from flowing down his face, the dry liquid was still covering his short beard.  
He smiled.  
“I broke my nose,” he explained. “I’ll be alright though. You should get down, we will help you.”  
She finally crawled towards him, and let him pick her up.  
“What’s your name?” he asked softly, making his voice as calm and comforting as he could.  
“Clea,” she whispered.  
“That’s a beautiful name. I’m Eldarion.”  
He carried her away from the battle field, following Ana, Adhalan and Eoden who had settled away from the corpses. The two dwarves were searching the bodies and the rest of the thugs’ belongings, trying to discover who were those who had captured these children.  
Eldarion put her down on the ground next to the other children.  
“Clea, are you hurt?” he asked softly.  
She nodded, before pointing at her arm.  
“Can I take a look?”  
Again, she nodded in silence.  
He slowly took her arm and lifted her sleeve. His eyes widened when they fell on the red mark.  
“Did they do this to you?” he asked, his voice shaking.  
She nodded again, and he noticed that she was beginning to cry again.  
“Hey,” he whispered, drying her cheeks with his thumbs. “No one will hurt you anymore. With us, you are safe.”  
He opened his bag, picking up some of the herbs his mother had given him, along with a piece of cloth he would use as a bandage. Next to him, Ana was inspecting the upper arm of the boy, finding the same mark as the one that was carved into Clea’s flesh.  
The two adults exchanged a glance, but didn’t say a word in front of the children.  
Eldarion took a few leaves, and the little girl looked at his movement with curiosity.  
“I must clean your wound, Clea,” he explained. “It will hurt a little bit, but after that, you will heal much faster.”  
He poured water upon the wound first, and the little girl jumped at the sensation of the cool liquid on her arm. But when he placed the leaves upon the red lines, she started to cry again.  
“It will not last for long,” he reassured her.  
Indeed, not a minute later, he was taking the herbs away from her arm and pouring soothing water onto the burn again. He wrapped the bandage around her little arm, and gave her a warm smile.  
“It is over,” he spoke soothingly. “You were very brave.”  
The two dwarves finally joined them, nodding at the questioning look on Ana’s face.  
“We burnt the carcasses,” they told the witch, and indeed, the smell of burning flesh was starting to replace the foul smell of the marshes around them. “We didn’t find much though.”  
“We should talk about all this later,” Adhalan whispered, glancing over the spot where the children had gathered.  
Ana nodded.  
“The girl I picked up says she’s the daughter of the family we visited a couple of days ago,” Eoden said. “We should take them there.”  
Ana nodded again.  
“Perhaps they will know where the parents of the other children are,” she added. “Let’s take them away from here, before the scent of burning bodies is too strong.”  
She turned towards Eldarion.  
“How is your nose?” she asked him, but he gave her a reassuring smile.  
“It can wait. The children cannot.”  
She nodded one more time, a small smile on her lips, before focusing on the children again.  
“You’re going to come with us now. We will take you out of the marshes.”  
Eldarion looked at Clea as she started to walk after the adults, but the little girl seemed so terrified and exhausted and lost…  
“You look very tired, would you like me to carry you?” he asked, bending down to look at the little girl.  
She nodded, extending her arms towards him.  
He picked her up in his arms, carrying her away from all this pain she had been through.  
“Are they going to come back?” she asked in a shaky whisper.  
“The men who hurt you? No, Clea, they are not going to come back,” the prince reassured her.  
“Are they dead?”  
“Yes, they are. So you see, they won’t come back.”  
She tightened her hold on him.  
“Thank you,” she whispered, and he could feel her tears wetting his neck and jaw.  
He merely stroked her back soothingly as he carried her out of the marshes. And it was a strange feeling shaking his heart, but somehow, remorse was no longer crushing his chest as he remembered the lifeless face of those he had killed that day. Somehow, he knew they would haunt his nights, but no regrets would torture him this time.  
As he held tightly the shaking frame of this little girl against him, he knew that she was worth it.  
When they finally reached the cover of the forest again, the night had covered the world with shadows, the stars covered by a strange veil that Eldarion could not explain. Perhaps an evil sign, or mere clouds travelling through the sky.  
Ana prepared a fire to warm the tired children. They were given food, water and warm blankets, but Clea seemed unable to fall asleep. She kept on staring at Eldarion with eyes full of worry.  
“You need to rest,” the young man told her.  
“I don’t want to sleep,” she lied.  
“There is no need to be afraid anymore. They will never come back, Clea.”  
“But what if you leave?”  
His expression softened, his dark brown eyes gentle.  
“I am not going to leave, Clea. Come here.”  
She stood up and walked to him, falling into his open arms.  
“You need to rest now,” Eldarion whispered in her ear, his voice soothing and warm.  
“Don’t go, please,” she asked, and he could hear tears in her voice again.  
“I’m here. Now, close your eyes, and try to sleep.”  
He held her in his arms, and soon, her breathing had slowed down, becoming deeper and more regular as sleep overtook her and eased her mind, her trembling muscles growing numb.  
“You are talented with children,” Ana noticed, smiling at the sight.  
Eldarion smiled.  
“I have younger sisters,” he explained. “I used to help them when they had nightmares.”  
“Let me take a look at your nose,” Ana offered, sitting down next to him.  
They were all gathered around the fire, most of their gazes lost in the dancing flames and flying embers. They were lost in thought, the images seen that day haunting their minds.  
Eldarion winced as the witch pressed a wet piece of cloth against his nostrils.  
“Sorry,” she whispered, worried to wake up the child that was now deeply asleep in Eldarion’s arms.  
She cleaned the dry blood on his face, her touch delicate, his eyes fixed on her.  
“How do you feel?” she asked after a short silence, and somehow, he could read in her tone that she was not talking about his broken bone.  
“Fine,” he answered. “Better than I expected.”  
“Because of them?” she asked, nodding towards the children, and the prince nodded. “Remorse?”  
“Not really,” he shook his head. “Not much guilt either.”  
She smiled as she put the cloth away.  
“What are we going to do with them?” Urin finally asked, now that all the children were asleep.  
“Take them back to this family we have met,” Ana answered.  
“What if they ignore who the other children are?”  
“We shall ask the children themselves then. But for now we need to find a shelter, and this little house is the best we have for now.”  
“Are we going to talk about this letter on their arms?” Eoden asked, anger shaking his voice.  
“It was black-speech, right?” Eldarion asked. “I recognized the letter.”  
Ana nodded.  
“It was black-speech for 'G’.”  
“Him again…”  
“These children were branded,” Adhalan said. “It can only mean one thing.”  
“I have heard of people disappearing near Eastern borders,” Ana said. “And not only children. Clearly, this is a whole organisation.”  
“Do you really think that they would use these children as… as…” Eldarion asked in shaking whisper, but he couldn’t manage to breathe the words out.  
“Yes, El,” Ana nodded, her tone revealing the anger boiling through her veins. “They were to use them as slaves.”


	4. Advices And Visions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence, death and dark themes so be careful if you are not comfortable with these things.  
As there are two different timelines, the paragraphs of the same timeline are separated with these ****** and of two different timelines with these —–.

“Slaves?”  
There was a hushed whisper shaking the whole crowd gathered in the great hall of stone. Eldarion’s story was already shaking their knowledge of Middle-Earth and the lands beyond their borders.   
Eldarion nodded at Faramir’s shocked question.  
“What did you do then?” Eomer asked, leaning on his chair towards the man before him.  
“We took the children to the house we walked to, and their child came home safely.”  
“What about the others?”  
“All except for Clea had a family living nearby. We left them in the house, the child’s parents would take them to their own home the next day.”  
“And Clea?”  
“Her farm had been attacked, it was further in the lands, closer to Rohan. So, we took some time to go there and look for her family.”  
“What did you find?”  
Eldarion heaved a tired sigh, and for a moment, his shoulders seemed to bend under a heavy weight he had to carry and usually hid away from strangers’ eyes. But it looked like this time, the burden was too heavy for Eldarion to cheat his audience, and the mask cracked slightly as his eyes became sadder than before.  
“There was not much to be found,” he answered elusively.  
“What did you find?” Aldir asked more loudly, repeating Eomer’s words, but with an acid tone.  
Eldarion stared right into the eyes of this man who accused him, of this man who made him lose so much time, when he had none to spare.  
But as his chocolate eyes travelled through the room, Eldarion could read the truth in the Lords’ gazes.  
They would not stop asking this question.  
He had no choice but to speak.  
And so, he spoke…  
———————————————————–  
Five years earlier

Ana’s soft gaze fell on the form of this child, asleep and cowered near the fire. For the seventh night in a row, Clea couldn’t sleep, except if Eldarion held her, her fears too strong for her to close her eyes and find any rest.  
The Witch looked at Eldarion’s fingers soothingly stroking this child’s hair as he slowly swayed back and forth to lull her to sleep. Ana could see Clea’s eyes moving at the rhythm of her dreams under her closed eyelids. She had found rest, eventually…  
When Ana looked up again, Eldarion was staring at her, a worried expression covering his graceful features. So, she stood up, crossing the shadows that separated them, and came to sit next to Eldarion.  
“Why are you worried? Do you have nightmares again?” Ana asked the Prince softly, her voice a mere whisper to avoid waking up the girl in Eldarion’s arms.  
But the man shook his head, his eyes drifting towards the rest of the guardians, all deeply asleep.  
Above their heads, the trees had left the skies, the small hills now covered with nothing but a yellowish grass and scattered rocks, instead of the many bushes that Ithilien offered. They were walking closer to Rohan, and should reach Clea’s house the next morning. But for now, shadows coloured the inky sky, and it seemed that they had conquered Eldarion’s soul as well.  
“What are we going to do with her?” he asked in a breath.  
“We are going to take her to her parents, and all will be fine,” Ana reassured him.  
But he shook his head.  
“Have you ever felt… like something terrible was about to happen?”  
She stared at him with a stern glance, but nodded.  
“I feel… I don’t think that we will find anything good there.”  
“It is just a thought, El.”  
“It’s more than that. Call it intuition, if you will… but I know that we shall find no shelter for her in her old home. And then… what are we going to do with her? We cannot take her with us further. We still have a mission to complete, a mission that seems more and more important as we find new clues towards this ‘G’.”  
But instead of replying to his question, Ana looked up at the sky.  
“Gandalf taught me the name of all the stars above,” she told him instead of answering him. “He said that they were the only living things we could rely on. They rose and set without faltering, just like the sun and the moon. And always took the same path, to make sure that we could use them to guide our own steps through the world.”  
He looked at her again this time, listening in silence, wondering what she meant to say.  
“Some say that our fates are written in the stars. Some go as far as to say that one who would be wise enough could read the future in the heavens. But I don’t think that it is possible. I think that we must find our path on our own. No one will pave the road in our stead, and we will just stumble and fall if we don’t rise and try harder and harder, as more obstacles are set on our course.”  
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the whole universe shrank to watch this scene. It felt like this to Eldarion, at least.  
“Do not underestimate the power of chaos,” Ana went on. “Coincidences… they are what truly govern our lives. Meeting a person rather than another is just a long line of decisions, leading both you and this person at this precise place, for this precise moment. And the stars have nothing to do with it all. It’s just you, El. You and your choices will shape your future, and the futures of so many people you are yet to meet or miss. I do believe that we can sense danger. But none of us can see the future. Not really. The ones who claim to have the gift of foresight merely see a possibility. As long as events didn’t happen, they are not carved in the stone, and they can still be changed. Be careful with your instinct. It might not always be right.”  
“So… do you think that we will find her parents tomorrow?”  
“I don’t know, El. That’s the point. I do not know, and there is no way for me to guess. We shall see. I hope we will, but I suppose that if there is no one left there, we will have to take care of this child for a little longer.”  
“I really do hope that my intuition is failing me this time.”  
Ana gave him a sad smile, but didn’t answer anything as her eyes drifted back to the child Eldarion still cradled in his arms.  
And she hoped he was wrong too.

*************************************************************  
Eldarion was carrying Clea again. A fragile little form wrapped in his strong arms. The long walk carrying his pack and the child was becoming tiring, his muscles aching and sweat glistening upon his brow as his breaths grew shallower. But instead of complaining, he kept on walking in silence. Eoden offered to carry the girl for a while, but the child shook her head, and Eldarion couldn’t bring himself to put her down. She still seemed afraid, too afraid for Eldarion to refuse to carry her. When they finally reached a path known to Clea, Eldarion could see her face brighten with hope.  
And he focused all his strength and all his will to hope that her house could still be here. That she would be welcomed by her family and that all would be well.  
She had suffered enough for a lifetime. And if he was to be honest with himself, Eldarion was growing fond of this little child. And yet… yet he still had this dreadful feeling tightening his heart.  
And the more he walked, the stronger this feeling became.  
Ana and Adhalan decided to walk further on, taking a look at what was to come on the road, as Eldarion was starting to lose his casual pace.  
But as Ana caught the first signs, her heart froze in her chest. And judging by the way her friend slowed down by her side, the elf had the same reaction.  
First, many footsteps on the path. Grass stamped and branches broken and earth turned into mud. The prints of hooves were added in the midst of the traces left by men.  
Then, the first signs of fire. Ashes caught in the leaves of the rare bushes around them and in the mud under their feet.  
And when they finally reached the house, it was to discover ruins blackened by fire.  
Ana heaved a painful sigh, her heart aching. But there was nothing she could do…  
They were too late.  
“Go back to the others, there’s no need for the child to see this,” she ordered Adhalan. “I’ll look for her family.”  
The elf silently turned around, sorrow painted on her features, but not a word passed her lips. There was no need to speak, after all.  
Ana walked further on, closer to the devastated house. She recognized what should have been crops on her right. Upon her left, the distant mountains pierced the sky, their white tops contrasting with the pale blue of the sky. Before her, the house was completely destroyed. The roof was gone, along with most of the walls. A few pillars remained standing, darkened by flames that were already dead. Judging by the absence of any scent, Ana guessed that the house had been destroyed several days before. Perhaps when the child had been taken.  
She walked through the ruins, but there was no trace of a body inside. And for a moment, the hope that the child’s parents could have survived made her heart quicken.  
She walked around the house, catching the sound of some of her companions approaching. But she didn’t wait for them, and walked behind the house alone.  
She didn’t need to go very far to find was she was so afraid to discover.  
The two bodies had been burnt just like their home. She easily recognized the skeletons of a grown man and woman. She found the tip of an arrow between two ribs of one of them, and a large mark across the skull of the other, leaving the causes of their deaths obvious. With a gesture of her hand, she covered the bodies with earth and grass, and made niphredil grow on the two tombs.  
She recognized the light steps of Eldarion as the man walked to her. She heard his steps slowing down as he advanced towards her, until his movements sounded reluctant. Because he knew the answer to the question he asked next.  
“Did you find her parents?”  
Ana nodded slowly.  
“They’re here. I took care of them. Their tomb will not be disturbed.”  
She saw him clenching his jaw, his fists closing into fists, and in his eyes, there was a burning rage mingled with pain that she found dangerous. But when he spoke again, his voice was cleared of any trace of anger, and was merely lower and deeper than usual.  
“What are we going to do with Clea?”  
“We can’t take her with us.”  
“We can’t abandon her. She is merely a child.”  
“We need to find an orphanage.”  
Ana turned to him, fully facing him, and rested her hand on his shoulder. But his eyes remained fixed on the pale flowers covering the tombs before him.  
“There is nothing more that we can do for her. Nothing, El. We cannot take her with us further on our journey. She will be safe in an orphanage.”  
He slowly nodded, knowing that the witch was right. But he could not help the feeling that tightened his heart that he was failing this child that trusted him so blindly. He wished he could save her parents, he wished he could do something… anything… but his mind was blank, and indeed, he knew there was no way for him to help her furthermore.  
“Let’s go. There is nothing to be saved here,” Ana added, already walking towards her companions.  
And Eldarion soon followed her steps, unless he walked to the house before joining the rest of the Guard. He walked towards the ruins of what had been a home. He painted upon the broken table the sight of a child and her parents eating and laughing happily. Upon the bed he drew the form of Clea under white sheets, listening to her mother telling her stories to bring her a night of sleep filled with dreams…  
Upon the house devastated by fire, he painted this life Clea had lost and that her home had sheltered, until now.  
He wondered how he could tell her that her parents were gone…  
He felt that he was walking on something, and he looked down, searching for the object he had set a foot upon. And this time, he felt tears stinging his eyes, tears that he barely managed to hold back.  
He bent down to pick up a burnt doll. The straws used to make the toy crumbled under his touch, turning into a white dust that slowly fell onto the floor. A blue piece of fabric had been used to make a dress, but there was nothing to be saved of the toy. Softly, gently, he put it down upon the child’s bed.  
He turned around and walked out of the ruins with his head high, but his heart broken.  
*******************************************************  
Ana had her eyes closed. The last thought that she could remember was the image of Eldarion as he told Clea about her family. The pain and denial in the child’s gaze, desperately searching through Eldarion’s eyes if he was lying, or if the nightmare was true. The memory made her jump upright, opening her eyes as quickly as she could.  
But instead of finding the fire she and her companions had made, and the sleepless forms of her friends lying in the dry grass, she opened her eyes only to blink to a vivid white light of the full moon.  
She knew right away that she was lost in a dream. A dream that always changed and yet was always the same. She was always sitting on the little bench set right outside Bag End, the peaceful landscapes of the Shire splayed before her, the great trees covering a starry sky. The tall Mallorn that had replaced the party tree destroyed by Saroumane and his servants many years before was in full bloom, its golden flowers shining under the moonlight. And next to her was the tall figure of Gandalf.  
And in her dreams, he was still cloaked in grey, final proof that the whole scenery was made only by her doubting mind. Still, the vision was so vivid, she wondered sometimes if he could be able to reach out to her from the White Shores.  
He smiled at her with mischief, before setting his gaze on the peaceful fields and smials once more.  
“It is good to see you again, Ana.”  
“You are only in my head.”  
“Am I? And if so, is it important? My voice rings in your ears as if I was still before you in flesh and blood. So, does it really change anything to the power of my words?”  
She shook her head. She couldn’t help it, the way she always listened to him and always longed to see him when she needed advices.  
“Why are you summoning me this time, Ana?” Gandalf asked, as the Witch was heaving a sigh.  
“I worry about the child we have found,” she admitted.  
“Clea? Oh, yes… It sounds like you indeed, to worry about children most of all.”  
“She has lost everything. I do not want to leave her behind, but I cannot see any other way to help her.”  
Gandalf slowly nodded but remained silent, taking a long pipe from under his cloak, and filling it with what Ana recognized as the best pipe-weed of the Shire. As he ignited the plant, she imitated him, taking her own pipe and her little bag filled with Longbottom Leaf.  
Gandalf let out a long blow of blue smoke, that he shaped like a dragon flying towards the night.  
“I know that you have always longed to help. It has led you into many dangers already, this will of yours to do good,” Gandalf finally broke the silence between them. “And I must admit… that I feel proud that you have never lost this desire to do good, despite all the darkness and evil we have faced together.”  
“I don’t know what to do, Gandalf…”  
“Doubt was always your enemy, and yet it is also your most loyal companion. Do not doubt your value. Many decisions that you have taken and will take will bring more questions than answers. But what we long to accomplish is rarely what we can do. And wisdom is a cruel ally we must rely on.”  
He turned to her, finally meeting her gaze.  
“You have taken the right decision. It is the only one you can take.”  
“I don’t want to leave her in an orphanage.”  
“Then she will most surely die on the road following you and your companions. Is that better than bidding her farewell?”  
Ana shook her head, blowing out a cloud of smoke.  
“What is right is rarely what is easy,” Gandalf gave her a sad and compassionate smile.  
“I wish you were here, Gandalf,” Ana let out in a shaky breath. “I wish… I wish you could help me again…”  
“Everything has a time to live, and a time to die. I have walked across Middle-Earth for many lives of men. It was my time to leave. And I am grateful, for I had a lot of time here, and a lot of time with many people I loved dearly. You included.”  
Ana smiled up at him, even if there were tears in her eyes.  
“I wonder how Eldarion will react when he and Clea will have to part,” the witch changed the subject.  
“He seems fond of children. Just like you. He will need your help, and you will need his.”  
“What do you mean? That I will need him with Clea?”  
But Gandalf merely smiled, before letting out another dragon made of smoke…  
… and the next second, she was sitting up in a hurry, her breathing laboured and brow covered with sweat. Eldarion was kneeling by her side, a worried expression upon his features.  
“Is everything alright, Ana?” the Prince softly asked. “You had a nightmare, I had to wake you up.”  
“I’m perfectly fine, thank you, El. You did right to wake me up.”  
“You… you kept on calling for Gandalf… would you like to tell me what happened in your dream?”  
She gave him a grateful smile.  
“I am just fine now. Thank you. Maybe one day, I will tell you about my dreams, but not for now.”  
Eldarion merely accepted her decision with a nod, before lying down on the ground again and covering himself with a warm blanket.  
And Ana did just the same, closing her eyes once more in an attempt to find a few more hours of rest before the sun would rise.  
But again and again, the last words of Gandalf kept on repeating themselves in her mind, and she couldn’t help but wonder what they meant.  
What task was so important for her to achieve and for which Eldarion’s help would be essential?  
—————————————————————————————-  
Minas Tirith  
The afternoon was already dying. Dark clouds stretched across the sky and darkened as the sun sank beyond the mountains. Eldarion’s tales took a long while to be told, and all the Lords gathered in the great halls of Minas Tirith could feel tiredness weighing onto their shoulders. It was time to call for a good night of rest. The second Faramir declared the end of the trial for the day, the guards stepped next to Eldarion to close the chains around his wrists again. The prince didn’t try to resist, he merely gave a sad smile to his guards as they guided him outside.  
Through the corridor that had seen him grow into a man, he walked now in chains and with armed soldiers surrounding him. But all along, he walked with his head high, not throwing a single glance to these people who kept on staring at him as he passed before them. He had learned to keep his stature proud despite chains.  
They led him to his room once more and only unchained his hands once he was inside. His untouched meal had been cleaned away and a brand-new plate filled with a piece of bread, cheese and ham again was set on the table. Once more, a glass of wine was set by its side on the wooden surface.   
Again, once the door was closed, Eldarion didn’t hear the soldiers walk away. They were remaining on sentries for the night, he guessed. He walked directly to the window, ignoring the meal that had been brought for him.  
He wasn’t hungry. He was too worried for that. The dark clouds mingled with the shadows of the night hid the line between the Ephel Duath and the sky. The horizon was just a wall made of darkness. He wondered, for a moment, if that was what his future would look like.  
A shadow that covered everything and blurred the lines between Heaven and Hell…  
A small smile graced his lips. He knew what awaited after this world. He had seen the white shores before, just a glimpse, but enough to know that a place there was saved for him. And the thought of having a chance to be with her, at least in this world that would come after Middle-Earth, warmed his heart enough to turn his sad smile into a bright one that reached his eyes.  
He hadn’t talked to his father about her yet. He hadn’t talked about what had happened in the Eastern Lands, he hadn’t talked about what they had discovered there, he hadn’t talked about what was coming…  
He needed to see his father, and he needed to do it fast. Fast enough to get ready, fast enough to be prepared. Fast enough to save them all…  
His eyes fell upon the white stones that formed this city he called home.  
Was it still home though? Did his home had to be just there, carved in the stones of this mountain he knew like the back of his hand? Couldn’t it be here, but there, so far away, as well? How could he just choose one?  
He started as someone knocked on his door. And as he focused, summoning all his senses, he finally realized that not two or three, but only one man was breathing in the corridor now.  
Someone could have knocked out the two guards?  
Perhaps, but Eldarion was not afraid. He had faced so many dangers… he was not afraid to die anymore.  
He walked slowly to the door, but waited for it to be opened. He didn’t have the key. After all, he was still a prisoner, even if he was in his bedroom.  
When the door opened, he noticed right away that the two guards had disappeared. And when his eyes fell on the tall silhouette before him, no matter if the man was wrapped in a dark cloak, Eldarion recognized his father immediately.  
It was silently that the Prince let the King enter his room. He was at a loss for words all of a sudden, him who had longed to see his father for so long, who needed to talk with this tall man about so many subjects… now that Aragorn was here, Eldarion couldn’t bring himself to let a single sound pass his lips.  
Aragorn closed the door behind him, before advancing through the room. He didn’t look at Eldarion as he walked to the window, throwing back the hood that hid his face. Clearly, the King didn’t want anyone to know that he had visited his son, but Eldarion could hardly blame him, even if the gesture broke his heart.  
They remained motionless for a while, Aragorn staring at the landscape splayed before him even if his eyes could see nothing of the mingled shadows and golden lights outside, and his son staring at his father’s back, too scared to speak for now. Silence was the only sound in the room. One could have thought that time itself had stopped in the old Prince’s chamber.  
But eventually, silence was too loud for Eldarion to take, and when he broke the heavy walls between himself and Elessar, it was with a shushed voice, trembling with apprehension.  
“Ada?”  
The word brought tears to Aragorn’s eyes. How many times he had heard this word spoken by his only son in his dreams during these past five years… he had lost count. And yet… yet now that the voice was true, all he could hear in his son’s tone was fear and sadness, these two emotions he wished he could ban from his Realm for eternity.  
Slowly, he turned towards Eldarion, his jaw clenched to hold back the tears that threatened to escape, and a stern expression on his kingly features. They stared at each other for a moment, brown eyes diving into grey ones.  
“You asked to see me,” Aragorn spoke in a neutral tone.  
He could read in his son’s eyes that this coldness in his voice was hurting him. But Eldarion merely nodded in response.  
“We are not safe anymore. We need to get ready,” the Prince spoke with a detached voice that matched his father’s. “They are coming for us.”  
“They?”  
“Everything we feared to be true happened. Everything we longed to see disappear lasted. We have little time left before war would strike our home.”  
“What proof do you have?”  
Eldarion frowned.  
“Do you have so little trust and faith in me now, that you do not believe me at all?”  
Aragorn straightened his back a bit more, crossing his arms before his chest.  
“You are on trial for murder,” he merely replied, and Eldarion heaved a sigh.  
“Father…”  
“I heard many stories these past five years,” Aragorn interrupted his son. “I have pushed them away, for most of them described your actions poorly. But now, this trial puts things back in perspective, and I wonder if I have been right all these years to ignore rumours. After all, now, it sounds like all these whispers were true.”  
Eldarion clenched his jaw, taking a few steps towards his father. And when he spoke, there was such a fire alit in his dark brown eyes, Aragorn knew it had been forged in the highest dangers and greatest pains.  
“It was our wish to remain silent and hidden for five years,” Eldarion let out in a shaking breath, that turned angrier and angrier as the words passed his lips. “You sent us to spy, after all. Eren told me about a few rumours. I’m not a drunk. I haven’t drunk a single drop of liquor in years. I have fought for five years and lost so many people that I loved and seen so much blood and pain and despair… I have never been perfect, but idleness is not one of my flaws. And now, I am tired. I am tired of wasting time we do not have…”  
“You are accused of murder!”  
“I have killed so many people that I have lost count by now.”  
Aragorn didn’t answer, his jaw clenching, but not out of anger, out of pain this time.  
“It doesn’t matter,” Eldarion shook his head, his voice calmer, soft now. “What happens to me, what happened during these five years, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is that we are in danger. All of us. And we need to get ready to fight.”  
“No one will believe you.”  
“Do you?”  
Eldarion’s breath caught in his throat as his father remained silently staring at him.  
“They have an army,” the Prince went on. “We need to get ours ready. We’ve tried to buy you all time, but we can’t deal with it all on our own anymore. That’s why I came back. To warn you all, to make sure that you would be ready for the war that is to come.”  
“Sauron was destroyed…”  
“Evil can never really be defeated. It lives in all of us, after all. How could we win forever with swords a battle we cannot end in our own hearts?”  
Eldarion shook his head again.  
“Many have turned in the East. Many are fighting for the light as well. Evil took many forms, but his strongest figure has yet to show itself in our lands. Ada, there is little time left, but we can still stop this. We can still avoid an open war.”  
“How?”  
“If we find their chief and kill him first…”  
“Are you talking about murder?”  
“I am talking about avoiding a war.”  
“There will be no murderer in our midst.”  
Eldarion narrowed his eyes.  
“Both our hands are covered in blood, Ada. The blood on mine is just fresher than it is upon yours. We killed the same way, for the same purpose.”  
“Eldarion…”  
“You have no idea what could happen if we don’t find this enemy on time. You have no idea, but I do. And if I have to kill a man in cold blood murder to avoid this much pain to destroy our Realm, then I will do it. Without hesitation.”  
Aragorn’s eyes turned sad, suddenly, his expression softening as he rested a hand on his son’s shoulder and squeezed it, as if he wanted to make sure that his son was really standing there, and that the world around him was not a mere dream.  
“What happened to you?” Elessar asked in a breath.  
“Ada, you must trust me.”  
“You’ve changed so much…”  
Eldarion gave him a smile, but the gesture was not happy, and didn’t reach his brown eyes.  
“Was it not the point of sending me away? To make me change? To make me grow?”  
“Before you left, you would have never seen murder as a possibility…”  
“I am too afraid to think about what is right or wrong,” Eldarion interrupted his father. “I am too afraid to take the risk of this enemy escaping again. I did it the right way once. Thought that I could arrest him and get out of it all with my hands clean from his blood. And I failed. And now, here we are, with war on our doorstep and an enemy ready to destroy everything and everyone we care about. I made this mistake of showing mercy to a being who has none, I will not repeat that mistake. I have given up on my soul a long time ago anyway, and I am not afraid to die…”  
“Do not speak words like these…”  
“I am not afraid to die, Ada,” Eldarion repeated anyway. “I am afraid to live when all those I care about are dead. I am afraid to be too late. I was too late once, and I lost my best friend. I will not let that happen with our kingdom.”  
“Eldarion…”  
“There is no other way. We need to find our enemy and kill him while we have the chance.”  
“I will not help you murder a man.”  
It was Eldarion’s turn to rest a hand on his father’s shoulder.  
“If we can deal with our foe in another way, then so be it. But you were ready to destroy Sauron a long time ago, without mercy.”  
“It was different.”  
“It is just the same choice. One life we know is too evil to repent, against our people’s lives, innocent lives. I have made my choice, and it is the same that you took long ago.”  
“You cannot compare Sauron to any other foe we might have to face.”  
“Oh, believe me, father, I can.”


	5. The Spy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for angst, death, and triggering themes of the kind, be careful.  
I hope you all like this new chapter!  
Also, as two different timelines are followed here, I’ve used these —- to separate paragraphs for two different timelines, and these **** to separate two paragraphs of the same timeline, so it would be clearer and easier for you all to read.

Dawn was barely here. The sun reached up but could not grab the sky just yet. Dark shades mingled with the orange and the gold the burning star sent. Eldarion could never grow tired of this sight: the sunrise on the Pelenor Fields.  
A green sea of grass, bathed in the burning lights of morning and the lingering shadows of night. In the distance, he could guess the shimmers of the Anduin, the rebuilding of Osgiliath…  
Standing on the edge, the tip of his boots above the void, he was motionless in the blowing wind. He had been granted a walk outside the palace, but could not reach one of the lower levels. Instead, he could only pace across the patch of grass and stone that stretched at its feet, to the tip of the rock the White City had been carved into.  
The wind bit his cheeks and ears, reddening the skin it touched. It felt vivifying. It felt like he was alive again. He took a deep breath that slowed down his heartbeat, closing his eyes for a second. The warmth of the sun wasn’t there just yet, but he didn’t mind the cold. He had lived for so long in the wild that he had lost his taste for staying indoor. He had even lost the habit of a comfortable bed, and he always needed several days or even weeks to get used to it again. He had barely slept since he had come back to Minas Tirith. The softness of the matress was only a part of his sleepless nights though.  
The conversation he had shared with his father the prior night kept on coming back to his mind. A twirling of thoughts similar to the rough wind that hit his still frame.  
He had seen hope in this exchange. If his father doubted him, he also doubted the poisonous rumours that had been travelling to and fro accross the realm. His trust in his son was shaken but had not vanished. Eldarion merely needed to prove himself and the bond between father and son would be rekindled.  
There was something in his grey eyes… a flash, a little glint shimmering there for just a second, that Eldarion had not seen during the trial. The king had looked at him like he used to, as if he were looking at his son again. And the thought warmed the prince’s heart.  
There was still hope. But after all, there was always hope. And Eldarion would need this little spark to vividly burn if he wanted to accomplish the mission he had been sent here for.  
“Time for the trial, your Majesty.”  
Eldarion took one last breath of air, before following the guards behind him.  
The tales he would tell today… the face of this little girl he had left so long ago flashed before his eyes, every detail still engraved in his mind, every curve of her hair, every part of her features. The blue of her big eyes blurred by her tears, the dirt on her right cheekbone, the tangled mess of her hair… Time had passed but her face had followed him wherever he went. He knew he would never forget her. He still felt like he had failed her.  
Many times along the years, Urin and Goin had repeated that they had no choice but to leave her in this orphanage. But the same thought had always crossed Eldarion’s mind in answer.  
There is always a choice.  
———————————–

Five years earlier  
Rohan

Soft. Cold. Almost delicate.  
The rain kept on falling and falling and falling in large droplets. If it wasn’t raining extremely hard, the continuous water dropping from the sky for hours now had wetted every inch of the travellers.  
Eldarion was shivering. In his arms, Clea was asleep, despite being soaked wet. It was already late during the night, but it was too cold to sleep in the plain without any shelter. They had to reach the city first.  
Angarad was only a little town in the southern borders of Rohan. Right where the hills and rocks mingled with the plains of grass behind them. Crossing the north of Ithilien and travelling upwards along the line of the Dead Marshes, they had avoided the marshes of Nindalf and then turned west before reaching the sharp rocks of the Emyn Muil. Crossing the Anduin, they were now in the eastern part of the East Emnet. A little bit more of walking back to the south, and they would have reached their destination.  
The mud was by now more water than earth, and after a whole day spent walking on this terrain, the cold liquid had infiltrated through the leather of his boots. As a result, Eldarion by now could barely feel his toes. Not a sound passed his lips though. The miles had to be crossed, and they would be. Against his chest, Clea’s soft breath warmed the drenched fabric of his shirt. He had wrapped both his leather vest and long woollen cloak around her to keep her warm, but time and rain had won in the end. The rhythm of her breathing was shushed by the loud sound of their steps in the mud and the falling rain, but he could still feel the waves of warmth and cold against him. It was a soothing rhythm that he had chosen to set his pace on. At every breath taken and let out, he took a step further, one foot after the other. His long strides devoured miles after miles without a complain. Around him, his companions were starting to show signs of fatigue, at the exception of Adhalan and Ana, who seemed to be relentless. But then, they were Elf and Witch, he reckoned that it explained their extreme endurance.  
On his right, Eoden was now drawing shallower breathes. He wasn’t complaining either, but it was visible through both his breathing and his features that he was exhausted. After all, they had been walking for six hours without a break by now.  
Behind them, the two dwarves were closing the path of the company, and Eldarion could hear them pester now and then under their breath about both the weather and the road, or rather the lack of it.  
Above them, the night had painted the blue sky in darkened hues, matching the dark brown of his eyes. The clouds gave a strange shade of mahogany to the heavens, blocking all light that could be coming from the moon or the stars.   
The road they had once been following was since long gone, the earth slowly covered by grass again as time went by. There were barely any inhabitants taking this road after all, and so nature had covered the tracks once left by men. Eldarion was not worried of being lost though. Ana had naturally taken the lead, guiding her comrades across the countryside. He wondered for a while how she could find her way through the shadows, without the moon or the stars as maps, but not once did he see traces of hesitation on her features. So, like the fighters that accompanied him, he didn’t speak a single word and merely followed her through the inky night.  
Through the darkness, Ana had summoned tiny lights that floated around them to lighten their way. Eldarion couldn’t help but comparing them to little stars. Like them, they looked like shimmering dots lost in the shadows. Eight of these fairy lights she summoned, and their pale, almost cold light was just enough for them to see where they stepped.  
Finally, Ana slowed down, pointing at the horizon, and as he focused harder, Eldarion was able to distinguish shy torchlights in the distance.  
“There it is,” she spoke in a low voice, as if she feared to disrupt the peace of the night. “Angarad. There is an orphanage next to the South Gate, we can leave Clea there.”  
“Is there really no better place where we could leave her?” Eldarion asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.  
“Nothing near,” Ana shook her head.  
“I know the people who are in charge in the orphanage. They are good people. They will take good care of her,” Eoden reassured his friend, his voice made a little hoarse by his heavy breaths.  
Once more, Eldarion merely nodded in response, just like he had done every time they had discussed the matter.  
“I do hope there is an inn,” Urin muttered. “I’m starving…”  
“I swear, you are even worse than a hobbit,” Eldarion joked, and for the first time since they had started their long walk that morning, they all allowed themselves to laugh.  
“Wait until he asks for his second breakfast,” Ana added, and laughter broke through the night again.  
“Come on, we are near now,” Adhalan encouraged the dwarf. “You will have earned a pint of hale tonight, my friend.”  
“That and a good bed,” Eoden nodded.  
“And warmth. Warmth and somewhere dry to sit down and smoke,” Eldarion let out in a dreamy sigh.  
“Well, instead of talking about it, what about we just go there,” Ana chuckled, resuming her hurried pace.  
And the two dwarves let out a groan.  
“I think she wants to kill us,” Goin sighed, making both men laugh.  
In Eldarion’s arms, Clea stirred a little, but didn’t wake up. He suddenly realized how painful his upper limbs felt, how numb his fingers had turned along the flying hours. He couldn’t feel anything beyond his knuckles by now, because of both the weight of the girl on his arms and the cold rain.  
They went further on for one more hour before reaching the town. Around the city, high wooden walls shielded the streets from the outside world. Through the darkness of the night, Eldarion could barely distinguish anything besides the tall walls lightened by lanterns. A great gate was visible, the top a little higher than the rest of the wall, and a watchtower built on its right, where a soldier was set on sentry.  
There was no hesitation in her movements as Ana strode towards the closed gate and knocked on it with her open palm.   
There were no answers at first, so she hit the gate once more, but without success here again.  
Eldarion looked up at the soldier on sentry. There was no doubt that he could see them, Ana had kept the little floating lights alit to brighten their path. None of the guards seemed keen to help them though.  
“I think we could do with a little persuasion from a Rohirrim,” Eldarion proposed, turning to the tall blond man by his side.  
He didn’t have to say it twice. Eoden was soon shouting at the soldiers, looking up at the watchtower.  
“Open the door. It is an order, soldier. I am Eoden, son of Dordalen, Captain of the Rohirrim. I would advise you to not make me wait.”  
As to prove his argument, he pushed aside his green cloak to reveal the white horse of his uniform painted on his armour, across the whole length of his abdomen.  
There were some words exchanged behind the door, a couple of unintelligible shouts, and the gate finally opened in a slow and creaking movement.  
At the sight of Eoden, the soldier bowed his head, and made room for the travellers to pass, a flustered expression painted all over his face.  
“Captain…” he tried to speak, but Eoden cut him off before he could make another sound.  
“Why did you refuse to open the gate? We are clearly on a journey, it is late at night and have you seen this weather?”  
“We apologize, Captain. But there have been strange folks walking ‘bout the town these past few months. We’ growing more suspicious, ’s all.”  
“It is your duty to help those on the road just as much as you must protect the people living behind these walls. You cannot shut all travellers away because of a few skirmishes!”  
“Of course, Captain. It will not happen again.”  
By then, the Guardians had entered within the boundaries of the village. Ana made the lights she had summoned slowly fade away, the torchlights and lanterns burning through the streets being enough to lighten their path.  
In the street, the mud felt even wetter and colder than in the fields. A strange scent emanated from all around them, suspiciously from the mud itself perhaps. It was a sour and bitter smell, and Eldarion couldn’t refrain a wince.  
They passed before the stables set at the entrance of the city, the smell of horses mingling with the strange atmosphere.  
They walked across the village, following this time Eoden’s guidance, as he knew the way across the little town.  
At this late hour, the streets were empty, they only came across a few dark figures, barely detached of the shadows of the night, leaning against the walls of houses. They seemed to be staying out of the light of the torches on purpose, and in the dark they were so barely noticeable that several times, Eldarion wondered if they were ghosts, or simply creations of his own mind. The uneasiness upon Ana’s face revealed that the silhouettes were real though.  
They finally reached the inn, a rather unwelcoming establishment, Eldarion reckoned, but there was no other choice of shelter. He guessed that the name of the inn, the Green Grass, came from the long plains surrounding the town, where only a few trees grew. Instead, grass had covered the ground in all directions.  
Now that he was inside, he reckoned the inn didn’t deserve such a peaceful name though.  
The same figures than the ones outside were gathered at one corner of the large room. A few soldiers were sitting at two separate tables, closer to the door, their chain mails shining in the dim light. Judging by the way their hair glimmered, they had not been here for long and were still wet from the rain. A couple of drunk men were leaning against the counter of the bar.  
Altogether, the room, lightened up only by the cracking fire in the hearth set on the left wall, was dark and gloomy. Dust had not so subtly gathered along the walls and on every edge of the furniture it could find. The floor was so covered by the mud from the street that it was barely an improvement from outside. And the state of the tables was such that Eldarion would have not touched any of them with his bare hands. He could see even from afar that his fingers would stay glued to the dirt.  
And finally, there was the smell. A mixture of ashes and burning wood, sweat, salt and rotten meat. Despite his hunger, Eldarion found himself unable to think about eating anything all of a sudden.  
He reckoned that the only improvement from outside was the lack of rain.  
Anyway, Ana walked to the owner who was leaning against his bar, loudly laughing with one of his customers. He had a long, lean silhouette wrapped in a long coat that seemed way too big for him. A sharp nose cut his bearded face in two, brown eyes with a clever glint in them standing above sharp cheekbones.  
At first, Eldarion wound have probably not trusted this man, but to his surprise, the man turned to the Witch with a large, welcoming grin on his face.   
“What can I do for you, ma'am?” he asked with his voice drowned in a heavy accent Eldarion failed to identify.  
She smiled back at him.  
“ We would need a place for the night and some food.”  
“Ha… the inn’s quite full. But I think I still got a pair of rooms. Not my highest standing, but I can’t make no miracle. Come on, I’ll show ya.”  
He guided them through a dark corridor next to the bar that Eldarion had not noticed before. The same gloomy atmosphere and dirty floor continued down the passage, and they didn’t stop before reaching the last two rooms. He opened the doors and checked around him, but there was no one in the corridor besides the travellers.  
“Here ya go. Key’s here. That’s all I got, but it’s dry and warm. Want your usual meal, Ana?”  
Eldarion noticed that the witch had never given him her name…  
“Yes, please. That would be perfect, Aleberry.”  
He nodded before turning towards the rest of the group.  
“’S a pleasure to have Ana’s friends in my inn. I guess you all will want to eat together.”  
“They will. Thank you,” Ana answered before anyone could reply.  
Aleberry disappeared back in the main room, letting the six companions and Clea settle down.  
There were only two beds in each room, along with a mere mattress thrown in a corner in each of them. Eldarion put the sleeping child in one of the beds, before turning back to his companions.  
“You should stay in the room with Clea,” Ana commanded. “I’ll stay there as well. The rest of you can take the other room.”  
She was not surprised to see the surprise on Eldarion’s face. Sharing the same bedroom as a woman, even if they did not share a bed, seemed outrageous for a man like him. Eoden seemed uneasy as well. But Adhalan and Ana merely laughed their reaction away.  
“You are mortals, you need protection,” Adhalan answered. “I reckon you should not be left unsupervised. After all, you are both so young!”  
“Compared to us, you are children. A little bit of wisdom will do you good,” Ana nodded, a teasing tone in her voice.  
The two men rolled their eyes in unison, while the dwarves were already entering the other bedroom.  
“As long as we can eat and sleep, you could put us in a stable with the horses for all I care,” Urin sighed, letting himself fall on the mattress on the ground.  
“I hope they at least have some good ale,” Goin went on, sitting next to his brother.  
He took out his pipe and lit it up, blowing a large cloud of blue smoke that was so thick, for a brief moment, it was hiding him from sight.  
“Aleberry will bring us everything we need, let’s have dinner together, and then we will rest,” Ana stated, walking in the same room as the dwarves after locking the door to the room Clea was peacefully sleeping in.  
Eldarion noticed a door connected the two rooms. He opened it to keep an eye on Clea, while the rest of the group all sat down on the different beds. Adhalan walked in last, closing the door behind her.  
“If we take Clea to the orphanage tomorrow, then I suppose that we should take a moment to investigate this letter you and Eldarion found beyond Minas Morgul,” Adhalan proposed. “Wasn’t the letter mentioning this town?”  
“Indeed, but we won’t have to wait until tomorrow to learn more about that,” Ana answered with a casual smile.  
“What do you mean? We can’t leave Clea alone in here. I… I have a bad feeling about this place,” Eldarion replied with a worried tone.  
“Now, no need to be so dramatic,” Goin mocked. “Soon you’ll pretend to be able to read about the future in tea leaves!”  
“You should not underestimate these kinds of feelings, my dear friend,” Ana replied in a serious tone. “Especially coming from someone who has elven blood running through his veins.”  
Goin snorted, but didn’t add anything, merely smoking his pipe again and blowing more puffs of smoke through the room.  
“I wasn’t offering to leave the child here on her own, though,” Ana reassured the prince. “But Aleberry will talk us through what has happened around here lately.”  
“Can we trust him?” Urin asked with a perplexed expression. “You seem to know him…”  
“He works for me.”  
“Works for you?”  
“He’s a friend. I asked him a few years ago to settle here and keep an eye on the comings and goings in the town. We can trust him. I have to share Eldarion’s worry about his clientele though.”  
A knock on the door prevented her friends to ask any further questions, and Aleberry was soon walking in the room, closing the door behind him and putting down on the little, trembling table a basket filled with food.  
“You can talk in front of all of us,” Ana indicated him, picking up a slice of bread. “So… what is happening here?”  
“Are ya sure?” He asked anyway, glancing at her companions.  
“I am.”  
He heaved a tired sigh, and when he spoke again, his rough accent had disappeared.  
“It feels good to speak as myself again,” he smiled. “You really have to come and visit me more often!”  
Eldarion could only raise an eyebrow in surprise, and the gesture didn’t go unnoticed from Aleberry.  
“I see Ana didn’t warn you. But I guess that you could say that I am her spy.”  
“A witch needs her eyes and ears everywhere,” Ana nodded. “And I cannot wait to hear what my favourite spy has to teach me.”  
A grim look appeared on the man’s face, and when he looked again at Ana, he seemed worried.   
“Dark things have been going on here around here lately. I was awaiting your return to warn you… these days, I don’t trust written messages to travel safely from on end of Middle-earth to the other. There are some groups of men… evil men… gathering here and there through the whole country side, right under the soldiers’ and kings’ noses. You could take a glimpse at one of them as you entered the inn.”  
“The group at the back?” Urin asked, and Ana’s spy nodded as an answer.  
“I heard some of them talk about gathering weapons and… something else, I do not know yet what it is. They refer to it as ‘merchandise’.”  
“Slaves,” Eoden spoke out loud the thought that had crossed all guardians’ minds.  
“Slaves? Are you sure?”  
“We came across a group of orcs and men on our way here. They had captured children, and clearly intended to use them as slaves, probably further east,” Ana agreed. “There might be more to it, but I am convinced that slavery is involved.”  
“So… the child you brought here…”  
“We freed her from them. But her family was killed, she needs a new home.”  
Aleberry passed a hand over his tired face, a saddened expression colouring his features. When he spoke once more, his voice sounded far away, his mind travelling away from the room and to darker places he created through his thoughts.  
“Goodness, I had no idea… This is horrible…”  
“What else do you know?”  
“Only rumours,” he shook himself and focused again on the witch. “Apparently, they all answer to the same man, but I don’t know his true name. For now, all I could catch was an initial.”  
“G?”  
“Exactly. I don’t know much about him. He seems to be moving back and forth through the land. It was said he was in Nurn for a while, then in the Misty Mountains, then in the ruins of Mordor… Sometimes, I hear two different stories that don’t make sense, like he would be simultaneously in two different places. I don’t know which to believe then. I could never get more than these whispers caught while these rascals ate and drank a little too much. But I could never prove anything.”  
“Do you know what his intentions can be?”  
But Aleberry shook his head.  
“Maybe it is mere profits obtained in the worst of ways. But I can feel there is something more. Something… something worse. Here again, there is no track to follow, but the way these men talk sometimes makes me think that the threat is real.”  
“Any link with the orcs at our boundaries?”  
But Aleberry shrugged.  
“I know they work with others… but they never use the word 'orcs’. It may be other men, it may be goblins, it may be orcs, it could even be dwarves or elves, I don’t know. Some refer to them as 'the others’. I know no more than this. But I know that they are not only out of our lands but inside as well.”  
“We heard about the raids on some villages closer to the eastern lands,” Eldarion nodded, but Aleberry quickly interrupted him.  
“That is not what I meant. I meant that they have people inside the lands. I heard about some of them lingering near the Fangorn forest, others south of Mirkwood and in the Misty Mountains.”  
“Fangorn and Mirkwood also…” Ana mumbled under her breath, her eyes unfocused as she was lost in thoughts.  
“You knew about the Mountains?”  
“Goblins and orcs have been spotted there. I fought some myself as they attempted to destroy some eagle nests. But I didn’t know they had spread so far…”  
“Again, I don’t know if they were referring to these despicable creatures or to any other.”  
“We shall figure it out ourselves. Thank you for your work here. Anything else you would like to tell me.”  
“I know that this… 'G’ has spies of his own.”  
“Spies?”  
Aleberry nodded, his worried expression turning into a frightened one.  
“I do not know to which extent, I do not know what level they have reached and where, but it would seem that they know too much to not have men inside. I heard a group talking about future movements of Rohirrim troops… How can they know about orders that were not yet given?”  
Eoden and Eldarion exchanged a dark glance.  
“They either have someone who can listen to this kind of conversations,” Eoden breathed, “or worst…”  
As the captain kept his thoughts suspended in mid-air, Eldarion spoke out loud the words his friend didn’t dare to.  
“The men giving these orders work for G.”  
“I should go to Edoras to warn…”  
“No.”  
Ana’s voice was firm as she interrupted Eoden, and all looked at her, waiting for her to speak again. But she remained silent for too long, and it was the Rohirrim who broke the heavy silence that had settled in the room.  
“Ana, my people is in danger. The King must be warned.”  
“No one can know about this,” Ana shook her head.  
“Why not? We must warn everyone…” Eldarion tried to argue, but Ana would not change her mind.  
“If we warn the Kings, they will be suspicious, and sooner or later, whoever is behind all this will learn about us, about our involvement… and we cannot take the risk.”  
“Ana… we cannot gamble with people’s lives either.”  
“We need to work in the shadows. It is the only way we can learn the truth and discover who this 'G’ really is. Besides, we don’t even know who is involved. We should discover who has infiltrated the realms before revealing who we are and what we know.”  
“I do not like this plan of yours,” Eoden shook his head.  
“If we make a move now, and it is suddenly known that we are looking for G, we will be in danger. And we will also be unable to fulfil our mission. If G knows about our interest in him, we will never find him.”  
“How can you know that?”  
“I do not know who is behind all this, but to gather men, orcs and goblins, and to put pawns at the most critical positions of Middle-earth require influence and skills…”  
She paused for a moment, but the meaning of her thoughts was plain already.   
“You are afraid of him.”  
Aleberry’s voice was a mere whisper, a breath let out through the dimly lit room. It sounded like he could barely believe it.  
“Only fools are afraid of nothing. The brave ones are only fighting despite their fear,” she replied, nodding. “I would be a fool not to be afraid of such a power held by only one being.”  
“I agree with you, Ana,” Adhalan spoke at last. “We should stay in the shadows for a while longer. We do not even know to what extent the flames have spread. If we act now, we will not eliminate the whole disease, merely the most obvious symptoms.”  
“What should we do then?” Eoden turned to the witch.  
“If Master Aleberry here is right, I suppose we will have to make a little trip to the forest,” Urin answered, coughing in his beard.  
“Indeed, that will be our next destination.”  
Eldarion slowly turned towards the door leading to the second bedroom that he had left ajar. He felt a weight falling on his chest at the thought of the little girl sleeping there.  
“We have to take care of Clea first.”  
********************************  
The sun was coming up already. Aleberry had stayed a little longer with them, talking about what he had learned and what should be done next, and the six guardians had earned little sleep after their long journey. But Ana could find no rest. In the darkness of the room, she could only keep her eyes opened and stare at the shadows around her. On one side of the room, Eldarion was sleeping on the mattress set on the ground. Clea was sleeping in the other bed.  
Ana was exhausted, it was not the lack of tiredness that kept her eyes wide open. Perhaps it was the thought of G, perhaps it was the addition of all these new information that Aleberry had brought her, perhaps it was the threat that seemed to grow bigger and bigger everytime she gathered new clues… Perhaps it was her doubts about herself and the decisions she took.  
But right now, her worry had taken the shape of this little girl sleeping next to her.  
She stared at the girl’s peaceful expression for a long while. She wondered if there was another path to take, another solution…  
But Clea had no family left, and they couldn’t take care of her. What else could they do?  
In her sleep, the child stirred, pushing the blanket aside, but shivering as soon as the cold air hit the skin of her arm. Ana stood up and crossed the meter that separated her bed from the child’s.  
This child seemed peaceful and so fragile…  
She put the blanket back on the girl’s arm, protecting her from the cold again, her fingers on the fabric as it traced the shape of Clea’s shoulder through the covers. She brushed a strand of hair away from the child’s face, taking a long look at her. She looked at the untamed locks framing her young features. The eyelids trembling with sleep. The cheekbones a little dirty. Her chest tightened, and she let herself fall back on the edge of her bed. She clenched her jaw before letting out a long sigh. But there was nothing more that she could do. She had to leave the child to someone else’s care.  
She remained sitting there, her bare feet on the cold wooden floor, her head bent down and chin resting against her chest, her eyes tightly closed as to stop tears from escaping, her jaw clenched as to refrain a shout… The witch’s heart tightened, a heavy burden thrown onto her shoulders making her bend a little under the imaginary weight.  
And lying on the mattress set on the ground, Eldarion stared at her in silent. He remained motionless, unwilling to let her know that he was awake as well and could see her. Despite the dark, he had no trouble examining her face. And as he stared at her sitting on the edge of her bed, her gaze lost somewhere between the child’s features and her own thoughts, her hands tightly holding the thin mattress under her, a smile formed on his lips.  
He should have been saddened by the scene, but actually, he was smiling.  
She had a much softer heart than most would claim, and he could see it all now.  
*************************  
A little less than two weeks. That’s all it took for Eldarion to get so accustomed to Clea.  
The tickle of her hair against his chin, the soft rhythm of her breath against his shoulder, her eyelashes brushing against his jaw every time her eyelids were closed and lifted back…  
She was a soft and fragile form he was used to carry by now. He barely felt her weight at all anymore.  
He opened his arms one last time for her and she didn’t hesitate to hurry in his embrace. He lifted her up in his arms and they left the inn. Outside, the rain had left the streets but mud lingered still. It would probably remain for the rest of the day. His boots sank still in the ground, sticky as he rose his foot again to take another step.  
By his side, Adhalan and Eoden seemed sad as well. He could see it there, in the curves of their lips and the corner of their eyes that they felt the same pain as he did. He was simply feeling it a little more vividly, he reckoned. Before him, Urin and Goin were silent, which was most strange for them. He couldn’t see their faces, but Eldarion knew that the reason behind their silence was Clea. Finally, behind him, Ana wore a stoic expression. There was something a little sad in her eyes, but nothing more. He knew the truth behind her stern looks though. He had seen it all the previous night after all.  
Clea’s tiny hands tightened their grip on his cloak as the wind blew with more strength.  
But as the orphanage came in sight, he knew he had to let go.  
It was just a tall and crooked building like most of the town. A sign set above the front door indicated the orphanage. Larger than the other houses, its wooden walls had since long been darkened by moss and moist.  
He carried her for a few more steps. Only too soon was it over though. Right before the door, he had no excuse to keep her in his arms.  
Slowly, with reluctant movements, he put her down on the ground again. But Clea refused to let go of him.  
She turned to him and stared right into his dark eyes with so much fear in her glance that Eldarion stopped breathing.  
He forced a reassuring smile to form on his lips nonetheless.  
“We’ve talked about it, Clea. They’ll take good care of you here.”  
“Don’t leave me here,” she shook her head, the tears starting to run down her cheeks.  
“We cannot take you with us…”  
“I’ll be good. You won’t even notice I’m here. I’ll walk all the way. I’ll make no noise.”  
Eldarion struggled to withhold his tears, his eyes stinging with growing pain.  
“I would never want you to not be noticed,” he gave her a kind smile.  
“I can help with… things.”  
“We are heading towards very dangerous places. And they are no place for a child.”  
“Don’t leave me alone here…”  
She was sobbing by now, and she rushed in Eldarion’s arms once more, holding on him so tightly, desperation oozing from her touch.  
A tear rolled down Eldarion’s face as he held her against his chest one last time. If his heart had been broken before, it was nothing compared to the pain that came with the guilt that pierced his chest now.  
This child needed him, and he was abandoning her to strangers. There was no other word to describe how he felt about his action. He was abandoning her. He could hear the arguments that he knew were right, the danger, how impossible it was to keep her with them, how wrong it would be. But couldn’t they at least take her to someone they trusted, rather than to these strangers? He could have taken her back to Minas Tirith and she would have been so much safer then. But Ana was right here again. They couldn’t go back to the White City. Not before their mission was over. The less his people knew about his travels, the better. Aleberry’s news only proved her right on her longing for secrecy. He could not endanger them all. Clea had to be left here. It was the best he could do for her.  
But then, why did he feel so bad? Why was he so worried? Why was his instinct shouting against it all?  
He shook his head, pulling away again. His new smile was reassuring but the look in his eyes was firm as well.  
“You cannot come with us. You will be safe here, and it is the best we can do for you. I promised that I would keep you safe, and that is exactly what I am doing now. You have to stay here. Then everything will be alright.”  
A middle-aged woman walked out of the orphanage and towards them. She had a comforting smile on her face, and she seemed to be kind.  
“I heard that you were coming here,” she smiled. “I’m Jona. Is she the girl?”  
Eldarion stood up again, nodding.  
“Clea, right? Well then, come on girl, we’ll take care of you now.”  
But Clea wrapped her arms around Eldarion’s legs, sobbing more than ever.  
“Clea, come on.”  
“You’re abandoning me here! You promised you wouldn’t leave me!”  
“I promised to keep you safe…”  
He and Adhalan tried to make her let go, but she was fighting out their grasp.  
“NO!”  
Her tiny voice was turned in a loud, desperate shout that pierced all of their hearts. Eldarion brushed a tear out of his eyes.  
“Clea, you need to go.”  
Somehow, Ana was suddenly by his side. How did she manage it, Eldarion never learned, but she did tore the girl away from him, and gave her to Jona.  
“I’m sorry, but there is no other way,” she breathed in a hoarse voice into the shouting and wringing girl, before turning around and striding away from the orphanage.  
The rest of the Guard followed her steps, except for Eldarion, who didn’t move before Clea had disappeared. He couldn’t move a muscle, he was like frozen. He blamed her shouts and her hands extended towards him and the tears on her face and in her voice. And on her lips, the same word again and again.  
“Eldarion! Eldarion!”  
And then she was gone. Instead of staring at her desperate eyes, Eldarion was fixing the wooden door. Her shouts were shushed as well and yet still his name kept on echoing in his ears and heart.  
He was motionless. Somehow, he could not move a muscle. The guilt was as a poison throbbing through his heart and coursing through his very veins across his whole frame. It impended his movements, thoughts, even his breathing. The only vivid feeling was the pain piercing his chest.  
He could have taken her to Minas Tirith where she would have been safe. Perhaps Ana was wrong, and perhaps if he strode right to the orphanage, he could take her back and make sure to give her care to someone he trusted even more than himself…  
The slightest shakiness coursed through his foot and his heel was an inch above the muddy ground when Adhalan rested her hand upon his shoulder. He could barely feel her fingers though, everything was numb but for the pain and guilt.  
“Come on, Eldarion.”  
After the child’s shouts, it was so strange to hear his name spoken in such a soft tone. He noticed that her voice was a little lower than usual.  
Somehow, he turned around and followed the Guard back to the inn. Where did the order to move come from? How was the strength to walk summoned? He didn’t know. He couldn’t have sent the command. All he could see, all he could hear was Clea. And again and again, the same thought that they were making a mistake came back to his mind.  
On the way to the inn, Urin and Goin kept on sniffing.  
********************  
Eldarion’s gaze was lost into the void. He couldn’t focus on anything. He had been motionless for a long while now, staring blankly at the dancing flames that illuminated the bedroom. On the table next to him, his plate filled with cheese, apples and ham had been left untouched. He could never eat when he was worried. It had been the same since he was a little child. His mother kept on repeating that he had taken the habit from his father.  
He could not shake this weight off his shoulders. His heart still felt heavy. He had a feeling growing more and more inside of him… a mix of guilt and doubts that refused to fade away.  
He hadn’t noticed Eoden sitting in the chair next to him. Only when the Rohirrim cleared his throat did Eldarion turn towards him.  
“The question of where to go next is upon us,” Eoden smiled at his friend. “What do you think?”  
But Eldarion shrugged.  
“I… I don’t know.”  
Adhalan appeared by his side as well, and then Urin and Goin, and finally Ana. They all exchanged a sad but reassuring smile.  
“We need to set our course from here,” Adhalan nodded, giving Eldarion her map. “What do you think? The road is ahead, after all.”  
Ana rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. And in her eyes he could see the same doubts and the same guilt and the same pain that burnt inside him.  
“We cannot save everyone, El. Sometimes… we can only give them a hand, they have to find the rest of the way. We did help her, but we cannot do more. It is hard to let go, but life is rarely fair.”  
“I know,” were the only words he could say.  
But this time, he had a more honest smile on his lips. He unfolded the map on his laps, and when he spoke again, his voice steady.  
“So… what have you planned next?”  
————————————————————————-

Minas Tirith  
“You left the girl there, and after that?”  
Eldarion barely heard Faramir’s question. His mind was not so easily driven back to reality after several hours of wandering through the past. Memories still drifted back and forth, keeping his gaze unfocused. Around the room, many lords full of power, accompanied by their personal guard. A couple of captains for the most part. Only a few women were present, princesses and high-born. His mother and sisters were not here though. He didn’t know who was responsible for this choice: his mother, his father, or the other lords gathered in the hall of stone? He had not dared to ask his father about it the previous night.  
“After that, we lingered for a few days in Rohan, before heading for Fangorn.”  
“You had been gone for… almost two months by then, if I am not mistaken.”  
“Yes, that must have been around that time.”  
He answered to Faramir’s questions with little thought. Earnest words nonetheless passed his lips, but they were not thought through. He had settled his attention on the crowd again, his dark brown eyes travelling from right to left and left to right again, studying the lords’, ladies’ and captains’ reactions. Trying to catch a sign. A nervous movement. A strange glimmer in their eyes. A shiver. A wince.  
He had little to work on. But his trial was turning into an advantage. He could study them all at once, compare them, read through their hearts and minds slowly, learning to transcribe every movement. He would need every trimmer and every shakiness and every emotion coming through the masks they wore if he wanted to finish his mission. But he wasn’t afraid of having to analyse such tiny details to understand such greater schemes. By now, he was used to the exercise.  
After all… who could find a spy better than another spy?


End file.
